A/N: Reminder, rated M for Mirandy. :)

Part 4, Chapter 3

I woke late the next morning. The sun was shining brightly behind the dark curtains in the bedroom, and Caroline was groggily heading to the en suite bathroom. I looked over, surprised to see Cassidy's bright eyes shining back at me.

"Good morning, baby," I said, softly kissing her cheek. "How are you feeling today?"

"Okay. My stomach hurts a little, but I think I'm just hungry," she said, giggling. "Are you going to stay all weekend with us?"

"No, darling," I said. "Your dad is going to take good care of you, though. I promise you."

"Uggh!" she groaned, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "This is ridiculous!" she said.

"What is?"

"This! Seeing either you or dad, but not both of you. It's not fair!" she pouted.

"Cass," I warned. "You know that your father and I are not married anymore. We don't live together—and we haven't for many many years." I paused, sensing James' presence in the doorway. Without looking up, I kissed Cassidy on the forehead and asked, "What do you think about you and your sister moving back to live with me?"

"Today?!" she asked, her eyes lighting up.

"No, sweetie," I said with a smile. "Maybe in a week or so. Actually, maybe after school is finished," I said, remembering they only had a few weeks left before summer break.

"Really? You don't care?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I want you to come home."

She reached over and hugged me tightly, burying her face in my neck. After several minutes, I pulled her away. "Darling, why did you ask if I cared?"

"We—we thought you didn't want us around, that you didn't want us to bother you," she said, looking down at the blanket.

"Oh, baby, that is entirely not true," I said. "You know I couldn't take you to Paris with me, and I couldn't leave you home alone, so that was why you stayed with your dad," I tried to explain.

"But you came home and didn't want us back."

"Oh, Cass," I said, wrapping my arms around her, "That's not true at all. I did want you back, very much, but there were a lot of photographers hanging around our porch because of the news about my divorce from Stephen. I just wanted to keep you away from that."

"We don't mind photographers."

"Darling, I know, but I don't want them putting your face in the papers and writing lies about us. Please believe me," I said. "You've lived with me for eight years and I've really missed you these past few weeks."

Just then, James stepped inside and made his presence known. "Good morning," he called. "How is my sleeping beauty?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Was he talking to me? I wondered. No, no, he was talking to Cass, I thought, reassuring myself. He glanced over at me and smiled, softly nodding. "I made some breakfast for all of us, so why don't we head downstairs?" he said.

Cass nodded and crawled out of bed, leaving me and James alone in the bedroom. I pulled myself up and leaned against the headboard as I attempted to smooth out my clothes.

"And how about you?" he asked. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded. "Cass woke up a few times during the night and I gave her another dose of Tylenol, but she seems to be feeling much better this morning. I'll call the doctor this afternoon just to double-check."

"Miranda," he began.

"James," I interrupted, "the girls are moving back home—with me—as soon as they are finished with school in a few weeks."

"Okay."

I quickly looked up at him in surprise. "Just okay?" I'll admit that I expected him to put up much more of an argument than that.

"Mira, I don't want to fight. They clearly miss you. You take care of them," he added, reaching over and taking my hand. I bit my lip as tears threatened to fall from my eyes. "You know," he continued, brushing his thumb along the back of my hand, "I never thought I'd see you like this again."

I wiped my eyes with my other hand and looked up at him, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"The way you look when you wake up," he explained. "Your makeup has worn off, your hair is a little messy, and you're still the most beautiful woman in the world."

My eyes widened. What on earth was he thinking? I cleared my throat and pulled my hand away from his, pushing the blankets off my legs. "I am going to pretend that you're just a little confused due to lack of sleep or something," I said, pushing past him and climbing off the bed. I stepped into my heels and collected my bag, heading for the door. "I don't even want to know what is going through your mind. Really, James."

"Look, Mira, I'm not trying to be a jerk," he said, standing up. I held my hand up to keep him from coming any closer. "I just saw you there with Cass, and it just brought back memories. I'm sorry for what I said last night."

"A simple apology would have sufficed," I said, looking down at my nails. I needed to have Emily schedule a manicure for Monday.

Just then, Cassidy and Caroline emerged from the bathroom, fresh-faced and ready for breakfast. "Girls, your father has breakfast ready downstairs. I will call you later this afternoon to check up on you, okay?"

They nodded and came over to hug me goodbye. "Call if you need anything?"

"Yep, thanks, Mom. Love you," Caroline said.

"Thanks for staying with me last night," Cassidy said, "I love you too, Mom."

I let myself out the front door, and putting on my sunglasses, I realized I would need to call a cab. My hair was a mess and my clothes were severely wrinkled—ironic, because just yesterday I was explaining to Andrea that I didn't want to wrinkle this skirt.

Beep! Beep! I turned my head towards the source of that annoying horn and was shocked and relieved to see Roy standing there next to the towncar. "Good morning, Miranda," he said. "Need a lift?"

Speechless, I climbed into the backseat of the car as he began driving me home. "Ho—how did you know?" I asked.

"Well, Emily sent me a message that you were spending the night, and, well, I wasn't sure if you'd need a ride today so I just thought I'd park out here this morning and wait."

"Thank you, Roy," I said with a smile. I looked down at my phone and saw that it was already 11:15. I would still have time to get to the apartment in time for the inspection, and that way, I could see Andrea and give her a phone, too.

As we pulled up to the townhouse, I asked Roy to wait for me and quickly headed upstairs to take a quick shower. I threw on jeans and a summery blouse with a light scarf, taking the opportunity to wear my Charlotte Olympia wedge heels again. Downstairs, I found a phone that Emily left, with its number written on a post-it. I programmed the number into my own phone and then headed out the door.

Andrea walked to the new place, stopping to get coffee as she took a few minutes to explore what would be her new neighborhood. There were several small cafes, a Starbucks, a drugstore, and even a small organic market within two blocks. She was waiting for Jonathan in the lobby of the building when I arrived.

"Miranda?" she asked, not expecting to see me.

"I needed to see you," I said, hugging her tightly and taking a seat next to her. "Here," I said, handing her the phone. "Email isn't enough. Sometimes I just need to talk to you," I explained. "And I don't want you walking around the city without a way to call for help."

"Thanks," she said, slipping it into her purse. "Is everything okay? How's Cass?"

"She's feeling much better, thankfully. But this morning, James was—I don't even know how to explain it. He was practically coming onto me."

I could see that Andrea tensed up, and I immediately regretted telling her that. "Did he hurt you?" she asked.

"No, no, nothing like that. We had been arguing last night, and I don't know if he was trying to apologize or trying to manipulate me so I'd agree to let him keep the girls. Either way, it wasn't working. I left, and wanted to call you so badly," I said, letting my voice trail off as Andrea took my hands in hers.

"Ladies," Jonathan said as he approached us. "Are you ready to head upstairs?" We both nodded and Jonathan led us to the elevator. I presume the man next to him wearing dickies and wheeling a dirty, beat-up small suitcase was the inspector.

Andrea sat quietly on the windowsill while I discussed a few details with Jonathan. Closing would be at 1PM on Wednesday the 28th, at which point I would need to bring the sale price of the condo in cash, as well as be there to sign the paperwork.

I walked back over to the window and sat next to Andrea. "Still want to look for furniture this afternoon?" I asked.

"Can we just shop online?" she said.

"I suppose. We can play it by ear," I said.

Jonathan called me over to pay the inspector. The condo was in perfect condition, really. The only things he suggested were changing the filters in the A/C vents and replacing the bathroom faucet due to some corrosion. We left the condo and I guided Andrea towards the towncar after saying goodbye to Jonathan.

She paused before stepping inside. "I walked here—I can just walk back to my place. I have a lot of things to pack up."

"Andrea, you know we can hire packers and movers if you'd like."

"No, that's not necessary. I want to sort through and throw out a lot of old papers I've been saving from college. I'm going to grab some boxes from the supermarket tonight."

I nodded, trying to give her space to do her own thing and pack up her belongings the way she wanted to. If anything, that was going to be the most difficult hurdle of her renting from me: letting her do things her way.

"Andrea, do you want to come to the townhouse with me for a while this afternoon?" I asked.

"Sure," she said, smiling brightly, "I just thought you were going to rest after staying up with Cassidy."

"No, actually, I think I got more sleep last night than I have in the past week," I said.

She nodded and climbed into the towncar. I followed, shutting the door behind me. Within seconds, she had straddled me, sucking the air from my lungs with her hungry kisses. I finally managed to slide away from her.

"Andrea," I gasped, "What has gotten into you, darling?"

"I wanted to pick up where we left off yesterday," she said. "Don't you want that?" she asked me.

"Yes, but not here. Andrea, Thursday night was amazing, and I very much look forward to spending time with you like that again, but one of the things I love most about being with you is just the simple intimacy of conversation, of sitting on the couch, taking a nap, sharing a meal. Darling," I said, gently cupping her cheek. "I don't want you to smother me with kisses, etc. every time I see you."

"Is it because you think someone will see us? I've been really good about that, Miranda," she pleaded.

"No, no, that's not it at all," I said. "Although, I mean there are some things I never want anyone else to see," I explained, "You know?"

"Yeah," she said, turning and sitting back in the seat. "I'm sorry. I just can't get enough of you," she said, blushing slightly.

"Well, I guess that is a good problem to have," I replied, softly kissing her lips. "Are you okay with that? Taking things slow?" I asked. I sincerely hoped she understood, but part of me was so desperate to keep her in my life, I would do anything, even in the backseat of the towncar.

"Yes," she said, resting her head on my shoulder. "I think as long as we keep communicating and all that," she said.

The car came to a stop in front of the townhouse, and Andrea and I both headed in the front door. I kicked off my heels and headed to the kitchen to find something to drink. Pouring two glasses of lemonade, I carried them into the den, where Andrea was sitting on the sofa. I set the lemonade on the tray on the coffee table just as my phone began to ring.

"Hello?" I answered, stepping back into the kitchen.

"Hi, Mrs. Priestly? This is Joanne, Dr. Harris's nurse. Is this a good time?"

"Oh, of course," I said. "I was planning to call your office this afternoon. And please, call me Miranda."

"Very well, Miranda. We just wanted to check and see how Cassidy was doing. Her final labwork came back just fine. Her white blood cell count was just on the high end of normal, so I think we can safely rule out anything serious."

"That's wonderful news," I said. "She was very tired last night, but her fever seems to have gone down and she was hungry this morning, so I think she's doing much better."

"Great. Dr. Harris thinks it was probably just a virus, but it's a good thing you brought her in just to be safe. It's difficult to tell with kids sometimes," she said. "Make sure she continues to get plenty of rest and drink fluids-it will help her body battle the fatigue that sometimes comes with a fever."

"Thank you, we'll see to that," I said.

"If you don't have any other questions, then we'll just send her chart over to the pediatrician's office to keep on file."

"Perfect. Thank you so much for everything," I said, ending the call and returning to Andrea.

"Was that about Cassidy?" she asked. "Everything okay."

"Yes. Just a virus, she's fine," I said, walking over to the couch and reaching for my lemonade.

"Did anyone tell you how hot you look in jeans?" Andrea asked.

I turned to look at her and was met with a smoldering gaze as she took my hand and tugged me, pulling me to the couch with one knee on either side of her hips. She slipped her hands in the back pockets of my jeans and firmly squeezed, causing me to gasp and lean forward, closer to her. I could feel my pulse rising as she slipped her right hand out and brought it around to the front, playing with the button closure. She looked up at me, asking for permission with her eyes.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Yes, I wanted this. "Yes," I breathed, shaking my head and nodding. "Yes, yes."

She swiftly unbuttoned my jeans and slipped her hand inside the tight space, the mere fabric of the denim pressing her middle finger tightly against my clitoris. I gasped and leaned forward, gripping the back of the couch on either side of Andrea's shoulders.

"So hot," Andrea whispered, "You're so fucking hot in these jeans, Miranda."

She pressed her fingers further until I felt her moving two fingers inside me. My mouth opened wide as I inhaled. She quite literally took my breath away as her palm pressed against my clit and my hips bucked wildly into her hand.

"That's it," she whispered, "ride my fingers." She slipped her other hand from my back pocket and cupped my breast, squeezing my nipple through my shirt. I hissed as I felt my muscles tighten around her fingers.

"Let go, Miranda. Come for me," she whispered.

"Ohhhhh…goddddd!" I moaned as I felt waves crashing through my body. My arms trembled as I fought the conflicting needs of holding myself up and clutching the fabric of the couch tightly in my fists. Andrea gently slipped her fingers away and turned me to lay on my back on the couch. I was vaguely aware that she was tugging my jeans off as I felt the cool air hit my hot center.

She lifted my left leg over the back of the couch and nudged my right foot to the floor as she climbed onto the couch between my legs. I shivered as I felt her drag her tongue across my folds. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that this was not at all what I meant when I asked Andrea if we could 'take things slow.' But, as she pressed her lips further, I reached out to grab the pillows on the couch, all rational thoughts quickly vanishing as I was struck by another overwhelming sensation.

"Ohh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!" I cried, "Andrea, Andrea, oh god, please—it's—ugh!"

Andrea took my clit between her teeth and gently bit, applying just enough pressure to send me spiraling over the edge…again. As I caught my breath, I felt Andrea crawl up alongside me on the couch. I leaned over and kissed her, moaning into her mouth as I tasted my own juices on her lips.

"Andrea," I said, hesitating and licking my lips before I continued. Was I supposed to thank her in this situation? Or was she waiting for me to return the favor? I wondered. "Thank you," I said, finally. I wasn't ready to take things any further, and I knew I needed some distance from her in order to regain some control of my senses. I stood from the couch, bending down to pick up my jeans and panties from the floor. "I'm going to go upstairs and take a quick shower," I said, self-consciously holding the clothing in front of my body.

"Do—do you want me to leave?" she asked.

"No, I'll just be a few minutes," I said. I desperately wanted to stay there on the couch with her, but I was scared that she would expect me to reciprocate; I had never felt so torn in my entire life. Unfortunately, my fear of disappointing her won out and I made another excuse to step away. Hopefully, Andrea would think I was concerned about the divorce and that would keep her content with my inaction.

I came downstairs nearly an hour later, dressed in yoga pants and a crewneck shirt, carrying my laptop. Andrea was on the couch, and it looked as if she had fallen asleep watching a television show.

"Hey," I said, gently waking her as I sat down. "I'm sorry I took so long. Still interested in furniture?"

She regarded me intently and slowly nodded, sitting up and stretching her arms. I spent the next few hours showing her various sofas, chairs, tables, dressers, and beds until I had a sense for what she liked. Not surprisingly, she liked clean, modern lines with a comfortable feel, and had a preference for geometric designs over florals, paisleys, or oriental. I could work with this, I thought. I recognized that she was getting tired, so I closed my laptop and set it on the table.

"We're done?" she asked.

"Well, for now," I said. "Later tonight I'll lay everything out and take a look at the exact dimensions of the condo and make sure it all fits together. I'll send you an email to review before I order, okay?"

"Sure," she said, nodding. She picked up my hand and laced her fingers with mine. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I said.

"Is something wrong?" she asked carefully, lacing her fingers in mine.

"What do you mean?" I said, turning to face her.

"Miranda, I feel like I'm getting mixed signals from you. I mean, either you want me or you don't," she said, pulling her hand away.

I sighed. I was a fool to think I could delay this conversation. "Andrea, listen to me very closely," I said, turning on the couch so I was completely facing her. I gently placed my hands on her shoulders so that she, too, was facing me. "I love you, Andrea Elizabeth Sachs, and I can no longer imagine my life without you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but I gently pressed my finger to her lips and continued. "You've made me a better mother, a better friend, a better person, darling. I do want you—in ways I never thought I could ever want someone, especially another woman. I know I've asked you before to be patient with me, and I'm asking you again now, actually I'm begging you to trust me and give me a little more time. Between the divorce, my daughters, Irv, the new place, and being down one highly competent assistant, I am holding on by a thread. Please, just trust me," I said.

She reached up and covered her face as she began to cry. It certainly wasn't the response I expected, but I suppose it was better than her running out. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close while she cried against my shoulder. "I'm sorry, darling," I said as I ran my fingers through her hair, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"No, I'm sorry," she said, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "You tried telling me before, but I wasn't listening. I just continued to push you," she said.

"Come here, lie down with me," I said, stretching out on the couch, "I just want to hold you for a while if that's okay."

She nodded and scooted over on the couch, lying down in front of me. "Will you turn around?" I whispered in her ear. She turned over and I wrapped my arms around her, sliding one underneath her body before pulling her close. I leaned in and kissed her, and she pushed me back, breaking the kiss as she laid her head on my shoulder.

"I love you, too, Miranda," she said.

TBC