A/N: Sorry about the mix-up earlier. FF was not being very friendly. Should be working now. And, for your troubles... this is definitely going to be more than 4 parts :)

Part 4, Chapter 4

Andrea spent the night. We eventually moved upstairs into bed after sleeping for a few hours on the couch. I was grateful she stayed with me, as I needed her reassurance after calling James and discovering Cassidy was running a fever again, for which he gave her more tylenol. He insisted I didn't need to be there, and Andrea helped to distract me. She left early Sunday morning to begin packing her apartment, and I again called James to remind him to keep Cassidy home from school on Monday.

Now, it was Monday morning, and I was heading into the car on my way to work—my first day at Runway without Andrea. I hadn't even arrived at Elias-Clarke yet, and I pulled out my cellphone and dialed her number.

"Hello?" she answered. I could tell I woke her up.

"Sorry I woke you," I said, "but…I didn't think it would be like this," I said.

"I miss you too, Miranda," she said. I could imagine her sleepy smile.

"How is the packing going?"

"Well, I was up late last night and got a lot of my books and clothes packed. I really just have to go through the stuff in my desk, and that's what will take longer because I need to throw some stuff out. Can I see you this week sometime?" she asked.

"Tonight I have a dinner party at Linda's, and I can't miss that. Tuesday at dusk we have the Oscar shoot, Wednesday I have a late lunch with Irv…what about Thursday?"

"I'll take it," she said. "Pencil me in."

"Okay," I said. "I look forward to seeing you. Maybe we should make a standing reservation."

"Well, until things are settled, I'll do whatever it requires to see you."

"Okay, I've got to go upstairs. Call me if you need anything. Good luck with the packing."

"Thanks," she said.

I hung up the phone and marched into my office. My coffee was missing, as were my two assistants, Emily, and whatever-her-name-is. I sighed. This was not going to be an easy day.

After lashing out at my staff in three meetings this morning, Nigel stormed into my office and shut the door behind him. I stood to protest his barbaric behavior, but he simply took me by the hand and dragged me into the bathroom in my office. He sat on the toilet lid and pulled me into his lap. I couldn't resist, and started crying the minute he wrapped his arms around me.

"Shhh, it's okay, Mira, let it out," he said, soothingly tracing circles on my back. "I know it's hard. She's not here and that's a big change, but you can see her tonight, and now you can actually spend time with her," he said, trying to reassure me. I was slightly concerned that he saw through me too well, but it really didn't matter.

"I—I don't know if I can do it," I cried, careful not to get any mascara on his shoulder.

"Miranda, you have never really known how to be in a relationship with someone, how to live with another person. Think about it," he said. "Now, we all know my track record is hardly exemplary, but that's mostly because no one could ever replace David. What I remember most about him, though, wasn't the time we spent together in bed, but the sporadic visits at the office during the day, the way he would sit on my front steps waiting for me to come home, the incessant phone calls I'd get from him at work (we didn't have cell phones or email back then!). Before he talked about moving in with me, we used to meet for a drink after work, and we'd spend the weekend at one of our places."

"I remember that," I said, "but if you're trying to say that I don't think of her enough—"

"No," Nigel interrupted, "that's not what I'm trying to say at all. You do think of her—I can see that you do—but you need to stop thinking in terms of your schedule. Your partner isn't an appointment in your calendar. If you slip out early today, will it ruin the magazine? Of course not. You have a solid team in place here to ensure everything will run smoothly."

"I guess I did drop everything and leave on Friday when Cassidy was sick," I said.

"Right, but it doesn't have to be an emergency for you to have a personal life. As your best friend and sister, I'm warning you: Andrea will only put up with things the way they are for so long."

"I get it," I said, shaking my head and standing up to fix my makeup in the mirror. Unfortunately, I knew all too well what he meant, and was already starting to see how my lifestyle was wearing on her.

Nigel left and I grabbed my phone and bag. "Emily, I'm going to check on Cassidy before her father gets home from work. I have dinner at Linda's tonight at 6, so I'm going straight home to get ready."

"Did you need a dress messengered to the townhouse?" she asked.

"No, it's casual. Text me with anything urgent," I said, stepping into the elevators.

In the car, I sent Andrea a text message: "On my way to check on Cass before James gets home from work. I'll tell her you said hello."

Andrea quickly replied, "Thanks. Hope she's better. How was work?"

I chuckled as I wrote back: "Interesting. I was practically screaming in a staff meeting, then five minutes later I was sitting on Nigel's lap, crying on his shoulder."

"OMG what's wrong?" she wrote.

"Nothing, nothing. Nigel just had some words for me, stuff I needed to hear. I'll tell you later."

"OK, if I don't talk to you, enjoy your dinner," she wrote back.

I smiled before slipping my phone in my pocket and running up the steps to James' home.

"Miranda?" Cara said, answering the door. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, I just wanted to stop and see Cass—may I come in?"

"Mom?"

"Sweetheart, how are you? Did your fever go down?" I said, meeting Cassidy in the foyer.

"I'm good. I feel a lot better," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist.

"Baby, your eyes are red—were you crying?"

"Just a little," she said, glancing over at Cara.

"What happened?" I asked them both.

"Miranda, I'm sorry. I was just changing the sheets. I know how you like the sheets to be changed more often when one of the girls is sick, and, well, it upset Cassidy," she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking over at my daughter.

I nodded and took Cassidy's hand, walking her over to the couch. She climbed up onto my lap like a child—not unlike the way I was sitting with Nigel just an hour earlier. "Baby, why were you upset?" I asked quietly, stroking her hair.

"My pillow—it smelled like you. And Cara washed it, and now it doesn't," she said as tears began to fall from her eyes. Cara shrugged her shoulders and I gestured for her to give me a few minutes alone with my daughter.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry she washed it, but it needed to be cleaned eventually." I reached up and untied the white Hermes scarf from around my neck. "Here," I said, handing it to my daughter. "Keep this. When the scent fades, let me know and I will trade you."

"Really?" she asked, clutching the scarf and inhaling.

"Yes, darling, but it's our little secret, okay?" I said, smiling and kissing her on the forehead.

"Okay, Mom. Thanks!"

"Oh, and I meant to tell you, Andrea—Andy—says hello."

"I thought she quit Runway?"

"She did, but she is my friend, so I still talk to her," I explained.

"Oh, cool. Tell her I said hi, too. Did she get a reporter job yet?"

"Yes, actually at the New York Mirror. She starts next week. Maybe you'd like to shadow her at work one day once she gets settled," I suggested.

"That would be so cool!"

I smiled. "Baby, why don't you run upstairs and put this scarf away," I said. "I need to leave and get ready for a party tonight."

"Okay. Thanks for coming, Mom," she said, hugging me.

"Of course. I want to make sure you're feeling 100% better," I said. "You will call me if you need anything?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Okay, no more tears, sweetie. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Mom," she said, heading upstairs, clutching the scarf tightly.

I left without saying goodbye to Cara. I understood that she meant well by washing the sheets, but I was a little upset that she didn't call me once she realized why Cassidy was crying. Sighing, I sank back into the cool leather seat of the town car and called Andrea.

"Hey," she answered.

"What is it about the way I smell?" I asked.

"Uhm, what?!"

"You heard me. There was something about my scent that first night you stayed at the townhouse, in my bed." There was silence on the other end of the line. "The red silk nightgown?"

"Oh, uh, yeah."

"Anyway," I said, sighing, "I'm just leaving James' and Cassidy was in tears because Cara washed the sheets and now her pillow doesn't smell like me anymore. Can you believe that?"

"Aww," Andrea said, "that's so sweet. I can totally believe that. I'm actually starting to miss your smell, too, now that you mention it."

I chuckled. "Well, I will be seeing you soon, don't worry. I have to go get ready for dinner. I'll text you later," I said.

"Okay, bye," she said before I ended the call, smiling. It was a totally unnecessary phone call, but somehow, I enjoyed the excess words.

Once I arrived at home, I slipped into a simple black shift dress and touched up my makeup. I still had a bit of time before I needed to leave, so I sat at my desk and went through my emails—a task that always seemed to take longer than it should.

Dinner was lovely, and I am constantly in awe of the risks Linda takes in her own fashion sense. It's refreshing, really, to see someone my age appear so completely ageless. One of her guests this evening was a young designer from Europe whose name I didn't catch because I was so struck by her ensemble. Her dress looked as if it was made of stuffed animals, and was absolutely hideous…in any context. I saw her and the only thought that crossed my mind was "flammable."

At one point in the evening, I was sitting on the sofa by myself. I pulled out my phone and was not surprised to see I had no messages from Andrea. She was not someone to bother me during work. Smirking, I muted my phone before holding it up and snapping a photo of this hideous stuffed-animal dress. I texted this to Andrea and wrote "Thoughts?"

Within seconds, she replied, "That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen. You can't be serious! Who would even wear that in your presence?"

I smiled. Andrea, my Andrea, was the only one whose presence I wanted to be in at the moment. I stood and said my goodbyes, thanking Linda for a lovely evening. I didn't bother with the pink Big Bird—I presume she saw my pursed lips upon her arrival and understood I would have nothing to do with her.

In the car, I again texted Andrea: "Just left Linda's. Miss you."

She replied, "Just climbed into bed…with my favorite piece of red silk. Miss you too. xo"

I smiled. As much as I wanted to tell Roy to drive to her place and surprise her, I knew that we needed time apart, and I still needed time to find my courage.

TBC