"Miranda, no. I-I'm sorry!" she cried, getting up and running out of the room.
The woman took a deep breath and pulled herself to her feet. She anticipated this reaction, and she wanted to give the young woman some time to compose herself. She found her in the dining room, leaning against the wall.
"Andrea, this is not your fault."
"It is, she said, burying her face in her hands. It's all my fault. If I never mentioned you to Nate, Caroline wouldn't have punched that kid, and she wouldn't have gotten suspended, and you wouldn't have had to deal with this shitty porn website thing. It's all my fault," she said.
Miranda hugged her and led her back to the sofa. "Listen, what he did was wrong—illegal, criminal even. Did you give him photos of me?"
"No, but—"
"Did you tell him to build this website?"
"No!"
"Then it's settled. It is not your fault," she said. "If you would let me finish explaining, they were able to do some sort of analysis, and it seems that the website was not created until the day after Stephen went on TV to talk about the divorce."
"I still feel awful. Nate wouldn't even have known who you were if it wasn't for me," Andrea said.
"That's mere speculation," Miranda said. "I find it hard to believe someone can live in New York City for a year and not know me," she said with a smile. "Actually. There's a tiny bit of good news to go along with this—they traced it back to his current address, which means that the District Attorney in Boston is now handling everything."
"So that means, you don't have to be part of it? It won't be here in New York?"
Miranda sighed. "Not exactly. But it will certainly be less burdensome—for the girls, especially."
"That's good," she said. "If there's anything you need to know about him, any way you think I can help the case, just let me know. I'll tell you everything I know."
Miranda frowned. "Yes, about that. I spoke with Leslee, and it's actually best that we don't talk about it any more." She reached out and took the young woman's hands. "It's only until the case is closed. It's important that no one connects us to each other beyond working at Runway, or they will start digging and I don't want to think about what they might find."
Andrea closed her eyes. "So I can't see you anymore. That's what you're telling me?"
"Not exactly," Miranda said squeezing the young woman's hand and holding it tight. "We just have to be much more careful. Especially at work."
"And with me in editorial, it's easier to do that."
"Much. Well, for the most part," she added with a smile.
"Will the DA at least push it through quickly? It can't look good for them—Boston or wherever—to let this linger. You're too high-profile."
"Leslee, I believe, has personally threatened to issue hourly press releases describing the failure of Boston's justice system if they do not settle it this month," Miranda said with a chuckle. "I did want to check and see if you're okay with this first."
"With what?"
"My lawyers going after your ex-boyfriend. You realize he will likely see prison time. Will that upset you?"
"Seriously?! No! No, go after his sleazy ass!" Andrea shouted.
Miranda chuckled and patted the young woman's shoulder. "That's my girl," she said. "I was fairly certain of your answer, but I just wanted to be sure."
"Thank you—I appreciate that."
"Of course. Now, it should be an open-and-shut case, but depending on how creative the boyfriend's lawyers get, they might actually ask you to testify." She took a deep breath. "And if it comes to that, I will find a way to hire a lawyer for you. It won't look good if Leslee represents you, or if I actually hire someone. I will find a way to take care of it, though."
"Miranda, you don't need to—"
"Hush. I want to."
Andrea nodded.
The following week, Miranda was busier than ever. With dinners and meetings each night, she was gone until almost 11:00 PM every night. Caroline and Cassidy missed her terribly, and she tried to make it up to them by going into the office late each morning, but her daughters were not the morning person she was, and they were hardly awake enough to appreciate it. The girls would be at their father's this weekend, and while she usually hated to see them go, she thought this might actually be good for them to get some special attention while she caught up on her sleep.
Knowing James would be there to pick the girls up after school, Miranda sent Cara home early on Friday. She had a dinner meeting with the CFDA planning committee that would likely go long, and all she could think about was taking a hot shower and curling up in bed. With the girls at their father's, she would be able to sleep in as long as she needed.
Her cell phone buzzed and she glanced down: Pierre has urgent changes, says you need to see them ASAP. -A
Miranda tucked the phone back into her bag. She would reply later. Tonight was not a good night.
About an hour later, after a few people had already left, Miranda was speaking with Diane when her she felt her phone buzzing again. Ending the conversation, she reached for her phone and saw another message: Miranda, Pierre her an answer by 2pm tomorrow and requests that you review it tonight. Let me know when I can drop it off. -A
Miranda sighed. She wasn't sure what could be so urgent, but she trusted the woman enough to know it must be important enough to merit the insistence. She replied: I'll be home in 20 minutes, then left to get her coat.
Not surprisingly, she underestimated the Friday night traffic situation in Manhattan. Meanwhile, Andrea arrived exactly twenty minutes after Miranda's text, gently knocking on the door.
"Andy? What are you doing here?" Caroline said, answering the door and hugging the young woman.
"Oh, hi, um…isn't it past your bedtime?" Andrea asked, hugging her back and walking inside. "And aren't you not supposed to answer the door at night?"
"We thought it was Dad," Cassidy said. "Hey Andy." She hugged the young woman, too.
Andrea shut and locked the door behind her. "Wait, is your mom home?"
"No. Dad was supposed to pick us up hours ago, but he called to say he was running late. And Mom gave Cara the night off," Caroline explained.
"Oh goodness, well, your mom should be here any minute. But you definitely should not be answering the door this late at night—it's dangerous!"
"Sorry, Andy. We were watching the camera, waiting for Dad. We saw it was you, otherwise we wouldn't have answered!" Caroline said.
"Why are you here to see Mom? Didn't you switch to a new job as a writer?" Cassidy asked. "You never come around anymore, and Mom doesn't talk about you."
Andrea smiled and sat on the steps with the two girls. "I did. I'm on the editorial team now—nothing fancy, but it's cool to flip through the magazine and see a caption or little blurb and know that I did that."
"That is cool!" Cassidy said.
Just then, the front door opened and Miranda froze in the doorway, her eyes darting between Andrea and her daughters. "Girls! What are you doing here? Andrea?!"
"We were just catching up with Andy," Caroline said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Cassidy elbowed her and clarified, "Dad called and said he'd be running a little bit late."
"More like a lotta bit," Caroline muttered, laughing.
"Upstairs, both of you," Miranda said. "Wash your face, brush your teeth, and get your pajamas on."
"Aren't we going to Dad's?"
Miranda rolled her eyes and set her bag down on the table as she took off her coat. "Not if your father cannot pick you up at a reasonable hour. If he's here in the next twenty minutes, you may go, otherwise, I'll take you over in the morning," she said. "Upstairs, now. I need to handle some Runway business with Andrea."
The girls turned to go upstairs reluctantly, but Miranda quickly caught up to them. She reached out and hugged and kissed each girl, telling them she loved them and was sorry she had to work tonight.
Once they were on their way to the third floor, she turned her attention to Andrea and gestured her head towards the den. The young woman followed, and was surprised that Miranda didn't even bother to sit down.
"Andrea, I am terribly exhausted. I just need…what is so urgent?" she asked quietly.
"I have a deposition tomorrow at 2:00 PM in Boston," she said.
Her eyes widened. "You what!? They owe you more notice than that."
She sighed. "I know. The letter got delayed—they sent it to my old address, and I just went to go pickup my mail from my old landlord tonight. It was mailed a week ago, I'm just lucky I saw it in time."
Miranda sat on the chair and sighed. "I've already spoken to Elias Clarke's General Counsel, and because this all arose in the course of your employment…anyway, they've agreed to represent you in any pretrial proceedings. You will need to email Ellen tonight and let them know," she said.
"Miranda, what should I tell them? If they ask me about my relationship with you?"
The editor opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by one of her daughters shouting that their dad was there. She rolled her eyes. "I'll be right back—stay here please," she said, looking over at Andrea and eyeing the door to see if she was visible where she was seated from the front porch.
She sighed and walked over to the door, helping the girls into their coats and sneakers, then opened the door when James knocked.
"Hey girls, sorry I'm late," he said.
"Bye, Mom. Love you!" they both called, walking past their father and into the car without saying a word to him.
"James, this is so irresponsible of you! Do you realize the girls were home—alone—for nearly four hours tonight, waiting for you?" Miranda hissed.
"Hm, why were they alone, Miranda? I though you were watching them during the week," he snapped back. "Of course it's my fault when you leave your precious babies home alone."
Miranda took a deep breath and she felt her nostrils flare. "Please—just take care of them. I'll expect them home by seven on Sunday."
"Fine," he said, walking out and shutting the door behind him. Miranda pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the door and took a deep breath.
Andrea quietly stepped into the foyer. "Hey," she said, gently reaching out to touch Miranda's back.
"I'm sorry you had be here for that," Miranda said. She turned and leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes for a second. "I think I could fall asleep right here."
"Let's go upstairs. I'll talk to you while you take your makeup off, and I can even give your shoulders a little rub before you fall asleep."
"I feel like I should turn down that offer," Miranda said quietly, her eyes still closed.
"Come on," Andrea said, taking her hand and walking her to the stairs.
"You know what? A nice, hot bath would feel so good right now," the editor said.
"No way. You're way too tired. You'll fall asleep in the tub—or you won't be able to get out. Not happening tonight," Andrea said. "Not on my watch."
Miranda's eyes were still closed, and she curled her lips in a pout—and it took every ounce of Andrea's willpower not to kiss her.
Upstairs, Andrea turned down the covers on Miranda's bed and turned off her alarm clock while she was changing into pajamas and washing her face. She emerged in a short cotton night gown, but she practically dove under the covers, so Andrea didn't have much time to appreciate the view.
Andrea sat on the bed next to her, gently tracing her fingers along the woman's arm, which was tucked under the covers. "So, for the deposition," she said quietly, "They will probably ask about my relationship with Nate, and mine with you. You were my boss at the time, and now you're actually my boss's boss," she said.
"Mentor," Miranda said softly. "Tell them I'm your mentor. I knew you wanted to write and helped you make the move, supporting you in your career growth, reviewing your writing samples."
"Oh, okay. Good. That will be good. That could kind of explain the closeness," she said. She felt the woman tense up and quickly clarified. "I mean, I am sure Nate has told his lawyer how my life revolved around you when I was your assistant—calls at all hours of the evening, you know. That's what he was always pissed about. If I simply say I worked for you, I think they will push it further. So I guess I'm saying it's good that I can say you were my mentor, too. It's a reasonable explanation."
"Andrea, I'm sorry to be so blunt, but is there any way he knows that we're intimate? Might he suspect something like that?"
"No way. I also don't think he would suspect anything. Plus, we only—" She bit her lip and decided not to finish that thought. "He was pretty stupid. He was just pissed I worked so hard. He wanted me to pick up after him and cook and clean, that's all."
Miranda smiled and turned onto her side. "Hmm, whatever you say."
Andrea smiled. "Okay, I think I better go. You need your sleep," she said.
"Mmkay. G'luck tomorrow. Stay as far from the truth as you can without lying," the editor said.
"Thanks," she said, smiling and placing a gentle kiss on the editor's forehead. "Goodnight, Miranda."
"G'night..."
The deposition was actually quite painless, and as it turned out, Nate's idiot lawyer hardly asked any questions at all. She had been worried for nothing. For the next few weeks following that, Miranda and Andrea continued to keep their distance. The night at the townhouse with James and the girls was just too close for Miranda's comfort, but she couldn't deny that she missed having the young woman around. Plus, the case against Nate had been delayed because there was something about the website host not cooperating and turning over its records.
After a week or so of not communicating, Miranda began sending the young woman a single text during the day simply saying "Coffee." At first, the young woman was confused, but after the third straight day of the cryptic messages, she got up and walked over to Miranda's office and saw her working, with both assistants away from the desk.
"I'm sorry, I keep sending you messages out of habit," Miranda explained without looking up. "As soon as I realized my error, I sent Jessica out." She hoped that the young woman understood, and chanced a look up from her computer. The grin on Andrea's face indicated that she did. "Is everything going well for you with Claire?" Miranda asked.
Andrea smiled and nodded. "May I sit?" she asked. When Miranda nodded, she sat in the chair across from the editor's desk, moving it just a bit closer. "It's going very well. I've helped with some copyediting, and I even wrote some captions for the last issue. Next week, I have to pitch a story, so hopefully that works out," she said.
"You know, I would be happy to look at your ideas. Just send me an email. I could easily tell you if something's been done before, or maybe identify a unique angle on a given topic. And I could probably rattle off some sources for you much quicker than Google," she said with a smile. "I am your mentor, after all."
"Oh, okay. I didn't know if that would be—if that would be acceptable. I may take you up on the offer," she said with a smile.
Miranda's eyes darted out to the hallway as someone walked by. "By chance, Leslee hasn't reached out to you, has she? About the divorce decree?"
"No, um, she hasn't. Should I expect something?"
"No, no, I just know she often forgets that you're no longer my assistant. The divorce should be finalized any day now, and there's just some final paperwork to process," Miranda said. Her eyes glimmered when she looked back at Andrea.
"That's wonderful news!" she said. "I, um, will be sure to forward anything that's mistakenly sent my way," she said. "Um, I should probably go back."
"No, stay. Share…this," Miranda said in the quietest whisper, softly gesturing at the air between them. She focused her eyes on the young woman, willing her to stay there in the chair across the desk, not speaking a word. The young woman smiled, and Miranda smiled back, nodding her head ever so slightly.
Andrea bit her lower lip. The editor's stare had always been powerful, but in this moment, she almost forgot to breathe. Her chest heaved as she met the intense gaze, her hands reaching out and gripping the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white.
Miranda's lips parted, as she, too, was nearly out of breath. Her body shuddered as her eyes remained locked with the young woman's. A single tear escaped her left eye, and while she wished to attribute it to the lapse in blinking, she knew better. She felt such a warmth in the woman's eyes that she always knew to be there, but it just felt deeper, more profound in this very moment.
She closed her eyes for the briefest moment, dabbing at the lone tear on her cheek as they fluttered open. The young woman never broke her gaze, and Miranda couldn't help the tiny whimper that escaped her lips as she felt Andrea's eyes penetrating through what felt like the very depths of her soul.
Andrea smiled and looked down at her hands, breaking their gaze. When she looked up, Miranda was still staring at her, but the intensity wasn't the same. "Miranda, when you are glowing with," she paused and smiled, "the enthusiasm of success, I will be there to participate in your joy," she whispered. "If you are assailed by disappointment, I will endeavor to sustain you in your dejection." She looked up and smiled.
Miranda gasped and pressed her fingers to her lips.
The young woman nodded, then got up from her chair. She cleared her throat and spoke at a normal volume, clearly intending for anyone outside the office to hear. "Thank you for the advice, on the pitch. I appreciate it, and will definitely send you some ideas for feedback," she said, repositioning the chair before she left.
Miranda licked her lips and nodded as her fingers tugged on the pendant around her neck. "That's all," she said, grabbing a paper off her desk and spinning around to face the window.
She closed her eyes and took several deep, calming breaths. Her heart was ready to beat out of her chest. Her skin tingled from the tips of her toes to the roots of the hair on her head. Even now, with her eyes closed, she could feel the tremendous force of the young woman's gaze. She softly reached up and pressed her fingers back to her lips, preventing any words from escaping. She couldn't, however, keep the lone tear from escaping her eye.
Jessica chose that moment to rush into the office, running a cup of Starbucks into Miranda's office and setting it on the desk. She was in such a hurry, she didn't even notice Andrea walking down the hallway, back to editorial.
Later that week, Miranda and the girls were sitting in the kitchen, working on the book and homework, respectively. Miranda excused herself to use the bathroom, and Caroline quickly reached for her mom's cell phone, dialing Andrea's number.
"Hey you," Andrea answered.
"Um, Andy? Why'd you answer so weird?" Caroline said.
"Caroline? What's wrong? Where is your mom?"
"Mom just went upstairs for a minute," she said.
"You know you're not suppo—"
"I know," she said, cutting her off. "Did you know Stephen is back?"
"Wait—what?! What do you mean?"
"We saw him last night. They were making out."
"Is he there now?" Andrea asked, trying to hide the anger in her voice.
"Uhh, no. Shoot, gotta go!" she said, ending the call.
Andrea stared at her phone. She considered calling back, but if something was up with Miranda, she wasn't sure she actually wanted to talk to her. Just then, her phone rang.
"Hey, what happened?" she answered, thinking it was Caroline again.
"Andrea?"
"Oh, Miranda, hi."
"Did one of my daughters call you again?" she asked. Andrea could just imagine the look she was giving them. In the background, her daughters could be heard saying "Mom, can Andy come to dinner on Friday night? We're having pizza and it's her favorite."
"Yes, Caroline called."
Miranda sighed. "And I presume you heard that?Apparently my daughters wish for you to join us for dinner tomorrow night."
"Do you want me to join you?" Andrea asked.
"Would I have asked otherwise?"
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have Stephen there?" Andrea said. She immediately regretted the words once they left her lips.
Miranda froze as the color drained from her face. She vaguely noticed her daughters' worried glances as she stood and walked out of the room and headed for the bathroom—the only room on the first floor with a door that locked.
Andrea heard the faint click of a lock and was relieved to know that Miranda wasn't ending the call on her—at least not yet.
"What are you talking about?" she asked quietly.
"Caroline told me Stephen is back," Andrea said.
"I— th-that's not—" Miranda stammered, feeling as though the air had been sucked out of her lungs. "That's not true."
"She said he was over yesterday. Will you tell me what happened?" She wanted to hear from the editor, in her own words, what exactly he was doing there.
Miranda took a deep breath and sat on the vanity, leaning back against the mirror. "He is not 'back,' as you put it. He came by the townhouse last night. I think he came in right after Jessica left—the door must not have locked fully," she said. At the young woman's silence, she continued. "He had been drinking. He was saying all these vile things, including that he heard I was into women. I have no idea where he may have heard that, but he saw something in my eyes and pressed the issue. He asked if I had been fooling around with any of the models, or with Emily."
"What did you tell him?" Andrea asked quietly.
"The truth. That I have never even thought a female model or Emily in such a way. I also suggested that he was focused on the wrong crowd, that maybe he should have thought twice about inviting me to those work functions where those young financial analysts were."
"What? You never told me about that."
"There's nothing to tell. I just wanted him to look somewhere else—let him question all of those young boys and leave the women at Runway alone," she said. "I can't have him asking questions."
"So he left then?" Andrea pressed.
"Not exactly. He grabbed me and pulled me to him and tried to show me that he was, um, just as capable as the young boys," she sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "I couldn't move. I just wanted him to leave, but I was afraid of what he might do if I fought him."
"Are you okay? Is this why you worked from home today?" Andrea asked.
"Physically, I am fine. But otherwise, I am still quite unsettled," she said, sniffling as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I d-don't—I'm not—I can't—" she said, closing her eyes and trying to calm her breathing. She was practically hyperventilating.
"Ok, it's okay. I won't ask you to do that," Andrea said. "Do you need me to come over?"
There was a pause. "You can't."
Andrea sighed. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. After what Caroline said, I guess I was just worried."
"Worried? Seems more like jealousy."
Andrea bit her lip. "Would you have a problem with that?"
Miranda chuckled. "No, not really," she said, thinking about what an unfamiliar feeling it was to have someone so protective and desirous all at once. "The offer for dinner tomorrow still stands, if you're free."
"I don't want to intrude on your time with the girls—I know it's your weekend," she said.
"It's not. I mean, James will be out of town next week, so we traded. He's picking them up after dinner."
"Won't it be an issue? Like last time James came to pick up the girls? When you made me hide in the den?"
"There's a difference now," she said quietly. "I am no longer a married woman."
"Really? The divorce—?"
"Yes. This morning. I would have told you, but I wasn't in, and…"
"That's why you didn't want to cause a scene with Stephen last night," Andrea said.
"Yes. I knew it would come today or tomorrow. It wasn't worth jeopardizing that."
"I understand. I wish I was there to hug you, and reassure you," she said.
Miranda smiled and shook her head. "I should have told you that he came over right away. It was silly to think you wouldn't find out."
"Um, Miranda?" Andrea said carefully. "I think you need to talk to Caroline and Cassidy about it, too."
"Oh. I definitely will be having a talk with them," she said sternly.
"No, not about her calling me—I actually think she misinterpreted what she saw last night."
"Oh, I see. Well, she has always been quite imaginative. Thank you for that. I will speak with her."
"So…dinner tomorrow night?" Andrea asked.
"Yes, come by at 7:00 PM if you care at all about pizza topping choices, 7:30 if you don't," she said with a smile. "And, bring some writing samples for me to review."
"Ah, I see."
"I would like to clarify. You do not need an excuse to be in my home tomorrow evening, and you certainly need not hide anywhere. I genuinely would like to see your work so far, and…we should also talk, after the girls leave," she said, hoping the young woman wouldn't be too upset.
"Suddenly, I think I know what designers feel like before a showing," she said. "So, I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Andrea," Miranda said. She ended the call and stood facing the mirror, wondering why it was so much more difficult to let the woman in now—now that she was available. Sighing, she opened the door in search of the girls.
.
.
.
TBC
