Chapter Twelve
Andrea was delighted to find she was the first standby passenger to check-in. The attendant implied it was a full flight, but if anyone else was going to be getting on it, it would be her. She went through security and found the first class lounge. Flashing Miranda's card, she happily took a corner seat by the window. The others wouldn't be arriving for nearly two hours.
"Nigel," Miranda called as they headed towards the airport lounge, "I do hope you selected a more suitable cologne for this seven hour voyage?"
"Yes, Miranda. I mean, I opted to go without. I didn't want to offend you."
"Good lord, you don't think I want to smell you the entire time!" Miranda reached into her bag and pulled out a small atomizer. "Here," she said spritzing him once at the neck and once on the wrists. "J'adore. Fitting, no?"
"Um, thanks?" Nigel said, turning to the girls and giving them a confused look. "Hey," he added quietly, "you're okay, right? I mean, no terminal illness or anything?" he said, gently brushing her shoulder.
"Nothing terminal," she said. "I do appreciate your concern."
Walking into the lounge, Miranda spotted Andrea asleep in the chair in the corner. She left the others and stood in front of the young woman. How could she sleep in a public place like this? "Andrea," she called.
The young woman opened her eyes and sat up. "Miranda, hi."
"Hello. I'm sorry to interrupt your rest, but were you able to get on the flight? What will happen if you can't?" she asked, taking a seat next to her.
"Not sure yet. They won't officially assign standby until boarding begins. But I was first in line so it looks promising," she said.
"Miss Sachs?" the attendant called.
"Yes?" Andrea answered.
"You have a seat. There has been a cancelation. You'll be in boarding group 3B."
"Thank you," she said. She turned to look at Miranda. "See? Nothing to worry about."
The return flight was relatively uneventful, and Andrea slept for most of the way, grateful she wasn't sitting near any of her coworkers. When they were nearly two hours outside New York, Andrea was surprised when Miranda tapped her on the shoulder.
"Is everything okay?" Andrea asked, pulling her headphones out of her ear and jumping up.
"Yes, yes, sit," Miranda said, softly placing her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "I just wanted to come say hello," she said. "You really are in the very back of the plane aren't you?"
"Yep, second-to-last row," Andrea said, blushing. "Do you want to sit down?" she asked, unbuckling her seat belt.
"No, no, stay. It feels good to stretch out my legs," Miranda said. "Thank you again for explaining everything to Nigel the other day. I don't know how you did it, but he isn't heartbroken or disappointed, which I know he would have been had I tried to explain things."
"Oh, it was not a problem. I'm glad he's not upset," she replied.
"So," Miranda said. "Do you have anything planned this weekend when you return?"
Andrea raised an eyebrow. Was Miranda Priestly making small talk? "No, I think I'm just going to sit on my couch and watch television for two straight days," Andrea said.
"Oh, if this is what a day off instills in my staff, I might think twice next time," she said with a smile.
"How about you, Miranda? Are the girls coming over?"
"Yes. I called James on the way to the airport, and he will bring them over Sunday."
"Good. You'll have to let me know if they like their souvenirs," Andrea said.
"I'm sure they will love them," Miranda said, smiling. "I was actually wondering if you were free this evening—well, afternoon, I suppose. Or tomorrow. I thought maybe we could—"
"Yes."
"Yes?" Miranda repeated, her eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Yes," Andrea said. "I need to stop at home first, but let's plan on dinner, okay?"
Miranda smiled. "Thank you," she said.
"You don't have to thank me—I want this," Andrea began, only to be silenced by Miranda's finger against her lips.
"Tonight. Right now, I should be getting back before Nigel comes looking for me," she said. "And I think that gentleman behind you is taking my photograph," she added in a whisper.
Andrea smiled. "Shoo, get back up to first class," Andrea said, waving the editor away.
Miranda waved and headed back to her seat.
"Nigel, what do you think about giving our Andrea a little promotion?" Miranda said when she returned. "A lateral move, really, but letting her get some experience with our editorial team as she finishes her year with us."
"I think that would be great for her, and would really help her make that step into journalism if she's still looking to do that," he said. "I know Claire has worked with her a few times and loves her."
"Yes, I was thinking of Claire, too. I will ask her as soon as we return. Andrea only has three months left anyway. She's really to intelligent to be fetching coffee and confirming appointments," Miranda said, rolling her eyes.
"But you seem to have taken a liking to her," Nigel said.
"I have. She is a very interesting young woman. She's complex, and let's face it, we don't see too many of those around Runway."
"True. Have you said anything to her yet?"
"About?" Miranda asked, suddenly flustered.
"Working with Claire…?"
"Ohh, that. No, I wanted to run it past you first. Make sure I wasn't delusional in thinking she needed something more," Miranda said, gazing out the window.
"She stayed in your suite this week, didn't she?" Nigel asked.
Miranda opened her mouth to deny the accusation, but she couldn't lie. Not to Nigel.
"Is she the first? I imagine I would have heard stories of other encounters. But really, sharing a room?"
Miranda felt her stomach clenching. She would never do that to Andrea. To any of her assistants. "Andrea stayed in the extra bedroom that was attached to my suite because there was no available space at the hotel. She was going to stay down the street, but I needed her nearby," she said. "That is the official story and that is the truth."
Nigel could see how upset she was becoming. He watched as she struggled to control her breathing. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked as he covered her hand on her knee.
She nodded, hanging her head. "Can I tell you something in confidence?"
"Of course."
"During the past few weeks I was sick—I thought it just the flu, so I refused to see a doctor. Andrea saw the worst of it and basically dragged me to the emergency room one morning."
"Was this after the CFDA Holiday Party when we couldn't figure out where you were?"
Miranda nodded. "I found out I was ten weeks pregnant."
Nigel gasped. He looked down at her midsection then met her eyes again. She shook her head and brought her hand up to cover her mouth and stifle her tears.
"Wednesday. Forty-eight hours ago."
Nigel wrapped his arms around his friend. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I couldn't say it. I still can't."
"And Andrea was there with you?" he asked.
Miranda nodded. "I think I'm going to take the next few weeks off," she said.
"Of course. If there's anything I can do, please let me know."
"Just knowing I don't have to pretend with you—it helps," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.
Around four o'clock, Andrea took a cab over to Miranda's. Their flight had landed several hours earlier, and Andrea had spent that time showering, washing a load of whites, and taking half of her suitcase to the dry cleaners. Tonight, she wasn't sure what to expect, so she tucked her toothbrush and clean underwear down at the bottom of her bag. Just in case.
Andrea climbed the townhouse steps and rang the bell. After the third time, Miranda finally came to unlock the door, ushering her inside.
"So, did you want to order in tonight, or maybe go somewhere for a quiet dinner?" Andrea asked.
"Where would we go?"
"I was thinking somewhere like Max's. It's close, nothing too fancy, and usually pretty empty on Friday nights," Andrea said. "Do you feel up to it?"
"Yes, I'm starving."
At the restaurant—which was more of a lounge than a restaurant—Miranda selected a booth in the corner. There were only a few other tables, but there was a young woman playing the piano in the corner. "This is lovely," Miranda said.
"I'm ordering the Fromages Frits as an appetizer," Andrea said, "but I will not share the aged cheddar one. It is to die for."
Miranda smiled. "We'll see about that."
They made small talk while they waited for their food. Miranda explained that she had spoken to Nigel about having her position shifted to editorial.
"So, I won't see you everyday?" she said, pouting as she sipped on her wine.
"Well, you may not see me in the office everyday, but I do hope we can still see each other outside work," Miranda said. "You must understand that I cannot continue to do this if you work directly for me."
"I know. Thank you for thinking of me, too. I mean, you know I love my job right now, but I would also appreciate the experience with editorial."
Their dinner arrived and they ate in companionable silence. It was only five o'clock, but certainly felt like it was much later. Andrea wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her eyes open.
When the server cleared their plates, they sat in silence, finishing what was their second bottle of wine. Miranda moved closer, so she was sitting next to Andrea. She reached down and took her hand.
"You have been my rock this past week. I don't—"
"Shhh," Andrea said, interrupting her. "I like this song."
Miranda turned her attention to the piano, where the woman was playing a beautiful rendition of Adele's "Make you feel my love." It was all a little too much for her. She couldn't help the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Andrea slipped her finger under Miranda's chin, gently turning it towards her. She softly captured the woman's lips in her own, lightly sucking before pulling away.
Miranda was breathless. She gazed up at Andrea's deep brown eyes and now recognized the desire she saw.
"I—I—" she stammered, grabbing her coat and bag as she tried to get out of the booth. "I just need—" she said, looking back and meeting the sad expression in Andrea's eyes. She glanced at the table and realized they hadn't even paid yet. Fumbling with her purse, Miranda tried to pull out some bills, but her fingers were too shaky.
"I've got it," Andrea said quietly, "go on."
Miranda bit her lip as she clasped her bag tight, practically running out the door.
Andrea wasn't sure what just happened. Miranda was acting almost as if she had just received terrible news. Was it something I said? Andrea couldn't help but wonder.
The server quickly appeared after seeing Miranda leave in a fluster. Andrea handed him her debit card and put her jacket on. Quickly signing the bill, she headed out the door in search of the unpredictable woman.
Miranda felt her heart beating out of her chest. Her mind was fighting her body and she felt like she was spinning out of control. She sat on the nearest bench, taking deep breaths until she felt her heart calm down.
Andrea spotted her right away. Seeing she was safe, she relaxed and took her time walking to the bench. Miranda's eyes were closed. Andrea picked up her coat from the bench beside her and draped it over the woman's shoulders before sitting several feet away from her on the opposite end of the bench.
"I'm sorry," Miranda said without looking up, "I'm ruining everything."
"No, no, no. You're not," Andrea said, looking down at her hands in her lap. "It doesn't matter to me. I still love you," she said.
Miranda looked up and wiped the tears from her face. "Wh—what did you say?"
Andrea smiled. She didn't really mean to say those words then and there, though they had been on the tip of her tongue for at least a week if not longer. She had nothing to wait for. "I said that it doesn't matter, that I still love you. I love you, Miranda."
Miranda shook her head and clasped her hand over her mouth. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Andrea said, chuckling. "You're crazy and smart and funny and incredibly sexy…how could I not?"
"But I'm old and demanding—" she said, sniffling, "and insecure. And I cry a lot."
"Who admits to being insecure? See, this—right here—is why I love you. Every time I want to roll my eyes or call you insane, you surprise me. You're mesmerizing, you know," she said, standing and walking around the bench. "I remember not too long ago when I could only dream of doing something as simple as holding your hand. Of asking you a question, for god's sake. But everything has happened so fast, Miranda."
Andrea sat back down, this time a little closer to the editor. "I have no idea what's going through your head anymore. Not that I could read your mind before, but I did know how to read your body language, your tone of voice, your eyes when you let me. Now, I don't know if it's because we're not at work or what, but I just have no fucking clue what's going through your mind and I'm more terrified sitting next to you here than I was that first day I delivered the book," she said.
Miranda turned her head and looked at Andrea with a raised eyebrow.
"Okay, that was actually really terrifying. This is close, but definitely not that," she said, shaking her head.
"Andrea," she said, continuing to look at the woman beside her. "I will only say this once. It feels like I don't know what is going on in my own head anymore either. My body feels foreign to me, like it's betrayed me, failed me. When I am sitting here talking to you, I can't feel my own presence. I'm numb. And I'm scared because I have never felt like this before," she said, blinking slowly, then fixing her gaze at the ground. "I want you, Andrea, I do. I have spent so many evenings at the office daydreaming…and now? What if I can't—-? What will happen when you realize I'm not good enough? When I can't shake this numbness? What then will you do? Leave me like the others?"
"Miranda—" Andrea began, reaching her hand out towards the woman's shoulder.
"DON'T touch me!" Miranda screamed, jumping up and pacing next to the bench. She held her fist to her mouth to stifle her cries. "I—I can't," she whispered.
Andrea stood and approached the woman, carefully keeping her distance. "Miranda, let's go home," Andrea said quietly.
No response was needed. They walked the four and a half blocks back to the townhouse in silence. Andrea knew it was going to be hard, but had no idea it would be like this. She followed Miranda into the house. They had not made eye contact since they left the bench outside the restaurant. Quite honestly, she was surprised Miranda even let her inside.
The lights were off inside, and Miranda didn't bother turning them on. Instead, she marched directly upstairs and out of sight.
For a few minutes, Andrea stood there in the foyer. If I don't help Miranda… She couldn't let her mind finish the thought as she climbed the stairs to find the other woman.
"Go away."
Andrea peered into the darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she made out the figure of a woman lying on the bed. Walking closer, she joined Miranda on the bed.
"Go away," Miranda insisted.
"Please trust me," Andrea said, gently wrapping her up in her arms. "I won't hurt you—I won't leave you," she continued, kissing her forehead. "I know it's hard right now. I can't say I know what you're feeling because I don't. But I know you're scared. I'm scared, too. Scared of losing you."
Miranda reached up and brushed Andrea's cheek. "Will you stay?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, of course. No matter what," she said.
"I love you," Miranda whispered.
TBC
