Part Five: Always at My Side
Chapter 1
Spending the morning in bed would soon become one of the small pleasures in my life, I was sure of it. The simple act of having my coffee poured for me in the morning was the kind of thing that made my heart swell.
"Andrea, you know you're welcome to stay here all day," I said.
"I know," she said, smiling. "Thank you, but I need to go deal with those papers back at my place."
"Of course," I said, sipping my piping hot coffee as I leaned against the breakfast bar. "If you'd like, I can come by this evening to help. I do believe we have a date scheduled already," I said.
"Oh, that's right, today's Thursday," Andrea said. "I'll order something for us for dinner—but fair warning, I might not really be the best company."
"Why is that?" I asked.
"It's just exhausting going through all that," she said.
"Sweetheart," I said, setting my coffee mug down and sitting in the stool next to her. "I know it's hard, and I'm not going to tell you that it gets better, because honestly, I don't know if that emptiness ever really goes away. It's up to you to change how you think about it, how you react to it."
She looked up at me, tears brimming in her eyes. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, chuckling, though I realized that maybe I needed more of an explanation. "I still have a shoebox of letters and cards from my mother—on the top shelf of my closet," I said. "Every time I walk into my closet, I see it. I know it's there, and it is a nice way of ensuring that I think of her everyday. Whenever I switch out my seasonal wardrobe or have to pull down one of the vintage items up there, I pull out the box and sit on the floor. Her handwriting alone brings tears to my eyes, but I have almost every note memorized," I said.
"Wow," Andrea said.
"You know, I have some cards in there that she gave the girls when they were younger. I don't think Caroline and Cassidy have ever seen them," I said. "She wrote the most loving words in those cards. Sometimes, I wish that I would have been on the receiving end of that selfless, unconditional love. But, I guess a mother's love is always different because you love your children while you train them to exist independently of you, to find a love of their own," Miranda said, looking up and blinking furiously to keep the tears from falling.
We sat in silence. I'm sure Andrea was well aware that I just dipped further into my past, into the part of me I've never shared with anyone. After a few minutes, I noticed tears streaming down Andrea's cheeks. I stepped off my chair and stood next to hers, awkwardly wrapping my arms around her as she was perched on the counter-height stool.
I wiped the tears from her cheeks and softly kissed her on the cheek before returning to my coffee. "Is your grandma buried somewhere or did your family keep the ashes?" I asked cautiously.
Andrea sniffled. "Neither," she said. "My grandpa was in the army during WWII, and he will be buried in Arlington National Cemetery. They have a shared plot. Right now, she's in the columbarium there as a sort of holding place until they can bury her on top of my grandpa's casket," she explained.
I nodded and took a sip from my coffee. "Have you been there?" I asked.
"No. We just had the memorial service in Jersey. Mom and Dad took her urn there a few days after the service."
I was surprised she hadn't revealed this earlier. Did I somehow keep her from going with them? "Sweetheart, do you think you might like to go visit sometime?" I asked.
She looked up at me in disbelief. "Yo—you would do that?"
"Of course," I said. "It's only about a four-hour drive from here." I gently slid my finger under her chin, tilting her head upwards. "I want to be there with you."
"Okay," she said, nodding. "Yes, I'd like that."
I smiled. "I'll take care of the arrangements. Would you like to go this weekend or is it too soon?"
"This weekend would be good," she said. "Between moving and the new job, I think the next month or so will be too busy."
"I agree," I said. "Would you prefer Roy take us—or would you like me to drive?"
She thought for a moment, then quickly responded, "Roy. Please." I nodded again before finishing my coffee. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was already past noon and I needed to leave.
"Miranda? Have I told you how amazing you are?" Andrea said.
I smiled and stepped against the chair as she spread her legs to make room. She wrapped her arms around my waist as I placed my hands on her shoulders. "Hmm, yes, I do believe you have," I said, "but maybe you should tell me again just in case."
Andrea smiled and softly pressed her lips against mine, careful not to smudge the sheer pink lip stain.
"Mm, darling, I have to go," I said, pulling away. "Ride with me to work?—then Roy can drop you off at your place," I suggested.
"Okay," she said, nodding and gathering her bag.
Once in the car, she turned to me. "Thank you, Miranda."
"What for?"
"For last night, for rushing to my apartment, for…for loving me," she said.
"Darling, it is I who should be thanking you. I never thought my life could be so fulfilling—especially after I hit fifty," I said. "Thank you, Andrea Elizabeth, for loving me." As we pulled up to the curb outside Elias-Clarke, I reached over and pressed my index finger to her lips. "Hold that thought," I said. "I will be over tonight around 7 or 8PM. Call me if you need anything today," I reiterated. I needed her to know that if she was feeling upset or anything, I would be there.
She nodded and gave a little wave as I stepped out. Licking my lips, I marched into the building like I was preparing for battle. Lord knows I would need my most intimidating look with the meetings I had scheduled for today.
As I entered my office, I saw the team already assembled for the run-through at 12:30. For once, I was hoping they would be running late. "Can no one here tell time?" I asked Emily.
"No, Miranda, I'm sorry," Emily said as we walked.
I stopped and turned to look at her. "No? No one here is capable of telling time?"
"Yes. No! That's not what I meant," she said, clearly flustered.
"Relax, Emily," I whispered. "Send everyone back here in ten minutes—precisely at 12:30. I need a few minutes," I explained.
"Of course," she said, marching off and ushering everyone from my office while I set my things at my desk. Emily turned and gave me a strange look before stepping out and shutting the office door.
Before my computer was even turned on, Nigel showed up, knocking and letting himself in, apparently confusing a closed door with a welcome mat. "And where have you been?" he asked, sitting in the chair across from my desk.
"Really, Nigel," I said, putting on my glasses and sifting through the papers that had been left on my desk that morning. "I don't have time to chit-chat today—I'm incredibly busy."
"You were in bed this morning, weren't you?" he asked, tilting his head and raising one eyebrow. "Ha! I knew it!" he said, taking my shocked expression as confirmation.
"Well, so what if I was," I said, coolly shrugging my shoulder. "Everyone is entitled to sleep now and again."
"Your place or hers?" he asked.
"Nigel Raymond Kipling, we are not having this conversation here!" I snapped. There is a magazine to be published, and well, by the looks of things yesterday, we'll be lucky if we sell one copy next month."
Nigel rolled his eyes at me—a luxury afforded to very few people in my life. "Was it at least good enough to be worth the time?" he asked.
I tried to purse my lips, but my smile seeped through. "Ohh-ho-ho goddd," I groaned, sitting back in my chair and removing my glasses. "You have no idea."
"Wow," he said. "I can't wait to hear all about it, but you, sweetie, should probably take a drink of water before your throat goes dry," he said, handing me my glass of chilled Pellegrino.
I smiled and shook my head. "Get out of here. I don't want to see you back for another," I paused to glance at the clock, "six minutes. Now, shoo!"
"Yes, your highness," he said, giving a small curtsy before heading out. Turning back to my emails and papers, I quickly got a sense for what the rest of my day looked like. If I was lucky, I could be out by 6:30PM, and that meant more time to spend with Andrea.
The run-through went surprisingly well, and I was quite impressed with the work Nigel and his team prepared on the layouts. I do have a highly competent staff, I thought to myself.
A few minutes past five, Emily was bringing in several skirts I asked her to pick up from Calvin Klein when my cell phone rang. Seeing it was Andrea, I answered immediately, though I was careful, knowing Emily could hear.
"Hello, sweetie, is everything okay?" I asked. I thought it best to pretend I was speaking with one of the girls until the divorce was settled, and until Andrea and I had a chance to talk about all this.
"Miranda," she whispered, "my fingers still smell like you. I can't wait until you come over and I can fuck you—"
I quickly ended the call, dropping my phone to my desk as I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I could feel that I was flushed, and was certain that a familiar moisture was quickly developing.
I looked up and Emily was staring at me, speechless. Had she realized what just happened? How could I explain hanging up on my daughter? "Emily," I called, realizing I needed no explanation for my actions, "the skirts, Emily?"
"Oh, right, yes," she stumbled, quickly explaining the selection before me.
I glanced up at the clock. Without interruption, I would surely be able to finish my to-do list for the day. I told Emily I was not to be disturbed and shut the door, focusing on the spreads before me.
Buzz…buzz. My phone vibrated with a new message: "You hung up on me!"
I sighed, reminding myself that this was her second-to-last day with nothing to do. "I'm sorry. I was not alone. I won't make it tonight if I keep getting distracted!" I wrote.
Then, biting my lip, I was worried my words were too harsh. "See you at 7. xo," I added, silencing my phone as I tossed it back into my bag.
By 6:50, I was finished with both revising the Summer spread and finalizing the quarterly expense report for Irv. Leaving both with Emily, I took my bag and headed downstairs, where Roy whisked me away to Andrea's.
"On my way—Need me to bring anything?" I texted.
"Just yourself. :)" she replied.
Smiling, I closed my eyes, but then quickly remembered about the plans to visit Arlington. "Roy?"
"What can I do?" he asked.
"Are you available Saturday?"
"Of course. When and where?"
"Well," I said, "I'm going with Andrea to Arlington to visit her grandma's ashes. I'm afraid we're looking at a twelve-hour day."
"Not a problem," he said. "Best if we leave before 7AM, though."
"That's fine. Shall we say 6:30 at the townhouse?"
"I'll be there," he said. He pulled up to the curb outside Andrea's building. "Shall I wait?"
"No, I'll take a cab," I said. "I don't know how long I'll be," I explained.
"Sounds good. If you happen to be at an, um, alternate location in the morning, just send me a text," he said with a wink.
Good lord, was everyone privy to my sex life now?! Rolling my eyes, I shut the door and headed up the stairs to Andrea's apartment.
Before I could knock, she opened the door. It looked as if everything was packed up. The main lighting was turned off, and a single candlestick sat on the table next to a bottle of prosecco and a box of pizza.
"I hope you're hungry" she said, smiling.
"Yes, famished," I said, realizing I hadn't had much more than coffee and water all day. "Pizza actually smells delicious right now," I said.
She walked over to the table and poured two glasses of wine, then opened the pizza box and proceeded to dish out slices.
"What kind of pizza is this?" I asked, turning my head at the strange shape of some of the pieces.
"Oh, it's the veggie one, I hope that's okay," she said.
"Yes, that's fine. I meant the shape,"
"Oh. Rico, the pizza guy, has had this crush on me since I moved in. Since Nate's been gone, he seemed to think he has a chance with me, even though I tried to tell him I wasn't interested. He found out I'm moving next week, and I guess this was his last-ditch effort to win my heart," she said.
"So it is heart-shaped?" I asked.
"Yeah, they always are," she shrugged.
"I take it you order pizza often?" I teased.
She smiled and nodded.
"Well, there is no one I'd rather share a heart-shaped pizza with," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist.
"Mmm," she hummed, kissing me softly. "I missed you today," she said.
"It hasn't even been seven hours, darling," I said with a laugh.
"Still. It only takes a second to miss someone."
"You're absolutely right," I said, kissing her again. "Was your day okay? I see everything is cleaned up."
"Yeah," she said. "I picked up this cigar box at the thrift store down the street, and I'm keeping my cards in there for now," she said. "It's cool-looking enough that I can keep it on my bookshelf so I'll always see it."
"I think that's a wonderful idea, Andrea," I said. Just then, my growling stomach interrupted. "So, about that pizza?" I said as Andrea giggled.
Dinner was simple but wonderful, mostly because I was sharing it with her. After we finished, I untucked my blouse from my skirt and loosened the side zipper as I tucked my legs underneath me on the futon. She curled next to me, and we finished the bottle of sparkling wine while she flicked through the channels until I made her stop at the movie White Christmas.
"A Christmas movie in April?" she asked.
"Have you never seen this?"
"Nope, sorry."
I rolled my eyes. "This is a classic. We are watching it. It just started a few minutes ago," I explained as Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen took the stage with their sky blue ostrich feather fans.
Nearly two hours later, I woke to Andrea's lips on my cheek. "Your movie's finished," she said.
"Mmm," I groaned, stretching my arm but keeping my eyes closed.
"I, uh, didn't mean to wake you," she said. "If you'd like to stay, we're already in bed," she added.
I opened my eyes and looked up at her. "I'd love to," I said, "but you have to remember I'm fifty years old. My bones require a thick, supportive mattress," I explained as I tried to stretch my back.
"Is that your way of asking me to spend the night again?" she asked with a smirk. "Because, I have to say, that's pretty hot."
I rolled my eyes at her again. "Andrea, you can't possibly continue to sleep on this," I said. "I've just been on it for two hours and I'm already stiff."
"Well, I can't spend every night at your house, Miranda," she said.
I could see she was getting frustrated. "I know, sweetheart. Once you move into your new place, who knows, I might just be spending every night with you," I said, reaching for her hand and tugging her off the couch. "Just until you're able to move in, please, I'd feel better if you stayed with me."
"Okay," she said, feelings of guilt motivating her decision. "I guess I'm living out of a suitcase as it is," she added.
"Then it's settled. You can have the entire guest room to yourself if you'd like," I said as I texted my backup driver.
Within minutes, Andrea rolled her small suitcase from her bedroom. "Okay, ready," she announced, setting her bag at the door.
"Our ride is downstairs," I said. "Thank you again for a lovely dinner."
Andrea smiled as she took my hand and led me out of her apartment.
Back at the townhouse, Andrea carried her suitcase up to the guest bedroom and began unpacking a few items. I quietly followed her and stood in the doorway, mesmerized by her simple movements: opening a drawer, turning to look back at her suitcase, re-folding her pants.
Her fingers danced softly across the denim fabric and I was taken back to the day I first saw her on the street, how she held out her hand to introduce herself in the lobby. Even though she was frumpy in appearance, there was something about her that caught my eye. It couldn't have been anything like fate—figures like Miranda Priestly never fell in the good graces of the gods. So, what was it? I wondered. Andrea was a truly brilliant woman—strong, loyal, courageous, beautiful. Regardless of why she intrigued me at first, the fact of the matter was that I, for the first time in my life, felt undeserving of this beautiful creature's love.
"Miranda?"
I quickly shook my head, bringing my thoughts back to the present. "Hmm?"
"I asked if everything was okay," she said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around me.
"Mmm," I sighed. "Yes. Everything is perfect." Just then, I heard Emily enter the foyer, placing the Book on the table and the dry cleaning in the closet. The redhead's discretion never failed to impress me. Surely, she wasn't oblivious to what had been going on over the past few months, but she never once mentioned it. "I need to go over the Book," I said, slowly extricating myself from her warm embrace.
"Okay," she said, "I'm a little tired anyway, so I think I'll just head to bed if you don't mind."
"Not at all," I said. "Wait—you're planning on sleeping with me tonight, right?" I asked, suddenly on the verge of panic.
She smiled. "Of course. I'll be waiting for you," she added.
The next morning, I woke with my arms around Andrea, and I seriously began to doubt inviting her to stay the next few days. I was growing spoiled—entirely too comfortable—with the situation.
"Mmm, morning," she mumbled, turning over as I reached to silence the alarm.
I bent down and kissed her, smiling against her lips as her tongue lazily tried to pry my lips open, resulting in her licking my lips. I brushed her hair out of her face and bent down, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. "I can't be late today, darling. I'll never hear the end of it from Nigel," I said as I began to climb out of bed, my foot stepping on something unfamiliar.
I gasped as I stepped out and picked up the Book from the bedroom floor. Were it not for the physical evidence, I would have forgotten all about bringing the Book to bed and Andrea kicking it over the edge. Several pages were ripped, but more noticeably was the cardboard cover with its dented corners. Sighing, I set the Book on the dresser and continued with my morning routine.
At Runway, it was Nigel who met me at the elevator, not Emily. I arched my eyebrow before stepping out, silently begging for explanation. "Mira, you need to tell Emily what's going on," Nigel said quietly, taking the Book from me. "She's practically worked herself up into an anxiety attack but she's afraid to tell you what she's seen."
"What exactly has she—"
"Wait—what on earth happened to the Book?" Nigel interrupted. "My god, it's been through ten rounds."
"It's just the cover," I said, opening the glass door. "I dropped it. That's all."
"That's all—my ass!" Nigel snickered, heading down the hall to the Art Department.
"Emily," I said, tossing my coat and bag on what would forever be Andrea's desk, I nodded for her to follow me into my office and quietly shut the door behind us.
"Miranda, your schedule is—"
"I know. That's fine. I trust you," I said, walking over to the sofa and gesturing for her to follow. She hesitated before taking a seat. "Emily, I meant that," I said. "I never have to worry about any of the…stuff…I give you. I know you will take care of it urgently, professionally, and discreetly."
"Yes, of course, Miranda. Thank you," she said, blushing slightly.
"Now, will you please tell me what's on your mind?" I asked patiently.
"Oh, no, I don't want to bore you," she said.
"Emily," I warned, my tone significantly harsher. "Tell me."
"It's none of my business, really, and I know I shouldn't be looking, but it's quite impossible to hang something in the closet without noticing other items on the rack, or setting the Book on the table and not noticing someone's keys, or not noticing someone's voice," she rattled, clearly flustered.
"Relax," I said, reaching over and placing my hand on her forearm. She gasped, and I pulled away, realizing that probably increased her anxiety. "I'm seeing someone," I said quietly, my hands in my lap. "We are keeping it quiet and professional for a while, especially since the divorce is not yet finalized," I said. Seeing her fingers still trembling, I decided she had earned further explanation. "We were friends, and sort of became more than that—but nothing happened until Stephen and I were legally separated. This was entirely unrelated to my failing marriage." A quick glance at the redhead told me to proceed a bit further. "You may know this person, but I will not say anymore without their presence." I cringed internally at my intentional misuse of the plural possessive pronoun, but I knew I needed to refrain from saying anything that could come back to hurt Andrea, especially since we hadn't talked about it.
"Okay…" Emily said quietly. "Thank you for sharing that. You know, if there's anything I can do—"
"Keep doing what you've been doing," I said, slowly standing up and walking to the window. "I need to keep this under the radar for the next few weeks—as long as possible, really. I trust you to be discreet, Emily. Do not fail me."
Emily let out a high-pitched squeal as she jumped up and nodded, heading for the door. "Send Nigel in when you see him— I need to speak with him about Galliano before 9," I said, sinking into my desk chair. "That's all."
I knew Emily wasn't the conversationalist, but I was assured by her reaction that she would continue as always, perhaps less anxious now that she wasn't keeping any secrets from me. Before scanning my inbox, I picked up my phone and dialed Andrea's number.
"Hey," she answered. "Is everything okay?"
"Hey is not an appropriate telephone greeting," I said, wrinkling my nose. "But yes, everything is fine."
"Soooo, what's up?"
"I spoke with Emily this morning."
"About—?"
"Us. Well, sort of."
"Are you serious?"
"I just told her I was seeing someone and that we needed to keep it quiet until at least the divorce was finalized. I reassured her that nothing happened before I was separated."
"Wait—so you basically tell your assistant that you're screwing your old assistant and…what's this about you being separated?"
Shit. I stood and shut my office door before continuing. "Andrea, please listen to me. I only told Emily because she was on the verge of a panic attack or something because she's been seeing items that are not mine in my house—your keys, your coat—she even heard your voice. I couldn't risk her raising suspicions, so I told her I needed her discretion. Don't worry, she won't tell anyone."
"That's what you think I'm worried about? Miranda, I don't care if the world knows. I mean, I don't want this to screw up your relationship with your girls, but seriously. Did it cross your mind that maybe you should discuss this with me before telling everyone whose bed I've been sleeping in?"
"Andrea, please," I begged. "It's not like that. I didn't tell anyone anything like that. I just confirmed Emily's suspicions to make her, well, less suspicious."
"Did it ever occur to you that I have a job, too? I have family that I'd like to protect from this information, too? You have no idea what news like this would do to my relationship with my family, especially if they heard it from television or saw it online."
"Andrea, please relax. I'm sorry. I should have called you first." I said, sinking into the couch as tears began streaming down my face. Through the silence of the phone line, I could hear the echo of my sniffles as I tried to hide my tears. I wasn't sure if she had hung up, and I certainly was not ready to take that chance.
Several minutes later, she spoke. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, sounding as if she, too, had been crying. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I just wish you would stop making decisions for me and start letting me in…I mean, if you really want this like you say you do—"
"Andrea don't say another word," I said, interrupting her. "Don't even think it. I have meant every word I have said to you. I do want a relationship with you. I do love you so much, it kills me to know I've hurt you." I took a deep breath, not sure what to say next. "Can we talk more tonight or should I come home now?"
"No, don't leave work because of this. God forbid we cause more suspicion. Sorry—I shouldn't have."
"No," I said, sighing. "You have every right to say that and to feel the way you feel."
We sat on the phone for several minutes, listening to each other breathe. I don't think either one of us was sure where the conversation was headed, but neither of us wanted to be responsible for ending it.
"Are you legally separated from Stephen?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Why didn—when?" she stammered.
"About three weeks ago," I said.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
"Andrea, please. It's no excuse, but at the time, we had just kissed and it was all very new for me. It's not that I didn't trust you, but I guess I just didn't believe that you were willing to wait. I thought you would use the separation to push me into something I wasn't sure I was ready for."
"Miranda, I would never do that. I didn't pressure you, did I?"
"No, sweetheart. You did not. Actually, I still find myself in disbelief when I think of how wonderful you were about it all. I didn't know what to think at the time, though. Leslie told me that Stephen could have petitioned to take the girls away and she warned me not to give him a reason. I was petrified. I'm sorry I kept that from you."
"I understand your fears," she said, "but once we decided to, you know, be together, why didn't you say anything then?"
"What?" I asked, suddenly getting defensive, "You expected me to pull away from your arms and say, 'oh, by the way, I'm separated from my husband so this technically isn't cheating…'?"
"Wow. I don't even know what to say to that. I mean—this is all about you, isn't it? It always has been."
"Andrea, what do you mean?" I asked.
"This. You pretend that you actually care, but you're just worried about what other people will think, about how it will look to the public."
"Andrea, please don't say that. I know you're upset, but you're not thinking clearly.
"No, for once I am thinking clearly. I'm not under your spell anymore, so the games won't work," she said. "I won't be here when you get home tonight—I'll stay with a friend until I can find a new place," she added before hanging up.
"Aaaargh!" I shouted, throwing the cordless telephone across the room, smashing a vase. Just then, Nigel walked in.
"Uh, you wanted to see me?" he said, hesitating as he surveyed the damage to the vase.
"Just go away, Nigel," I said.
"I don't think so," he said, carefully picking the phone up from the shattered glass and replacing it in its cradle on my desk.
"I failed," I said quietly, burying my face in my hands. "It was perfect, and I ruined it like I ruin everything good in my life," I cried.
"Now, get yourself together," Nigel said, leading me to the bathroom. "You have a magazine to run and Irv wants to meet to go over the budget you sent him," Nigel explained.
I shrugged and picked up a tissue, dabbing at my eyes. Nigel brought a cup of ice and carefully wrapped a few cubes in a washcloth to help reduce the swelling around my eyes. "Now, I have somewhere to be right now. Will you be okay, Mira?"
"Yes. Thank you," I said quietly. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before hurrying out of the office.
"Six? Andy? Are you here?" Nigel called after letting himself into the townhouse.
"Nigel? What's wrong? What are you doing here?" she said, rushing downstairs to meet him. "It's Miranda," he said.
"Oh god," Andrea said, sinking down to sit on the stairs. He wouldn't have believed Andy capable of going paler than she already was had he not seen it with his own eyes.
"What did you say to her?" he asked.
"Wait—is she—is she okay?"
"Honestly, I don't know. She smashed a vase…before her meeting with Irv. Six, what happened between you two?"
Andrea pursed her lips. "It's weird. I don't feel like I should tell you, since the whole thing started with her telling someone without telling me first."
Once Nigel wrapped his brain around that, he realized she could only be talking about Emily. "I'm the one who told Miranda she needed to talk to Emily. She was almost losing it, and I know Miranda needs a reliable assistant right now."
"I get that, but she didn't tell me first. I have just as much to lose as she does if word gets out that we've been together. My family would be shocked to find out I'm in a relationship with a married woman twice my age, not to mention my former boss. John would surely have to take away my new job if others thought I didn't earn it outright, and well, I think we all know Miranda would deny everything and throw me under the bus," Andrea said.
"Miranda can be an idiot," Nigel said. "She thinks too much for her own good. She doesn't know how to separate life and work, so she creates strange mixes, like scheduling appointments with you and coming up with strategies to minimize the press with Leslie. She's learning," he said, "and if you can believe it, she's gotten a lot better since you've been around."
"She lied to me," Andrea said, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.
"I doubt that," Nigel said. "As you know, she's very logical and particular. I can guarantee that in her mind, it wasn't a lie. Sometimes she does get too caught up in the particulars to realize she's hurting others, though."
"She's legally separated from Stephen. Did you know that?"
"No…I didn't."
"Three fucking weeks ago, and she didn't tell me."
"Well, she must have had a reason. She told you now, didn't she?"
"It was on accident. Why are you sticking up for her after she screwed you in a heartbeat in Paris?"
"Mira is like a sister to me. I've seen her at her worst, but I've also seen her truly happy. Andy, whatever you said to her this morning—it hurt her, badly. Your instinct might be to give her time, but time will only make it easier for her to build her walls back up, higher and stronger," he said.
Andrea took a deep breath and turned to Nigel. "I love her, Nigel. I know she's difficult—hell, that's one of the reasons why I love her—I just didn't think she would turn on me."
"You need to talk to her in person," he said. "And I need to get back to the office. Want a lift?"
Andrea nodded and gathered up her bag, following Nigel out to the car. The driver dropped her at the Starbucks across the street where she sat for a few minutes, contemplating her plan. Finally summoning the courage, Andrea dialed her cell phone, only to be met immediately with my voicemail greeting. "Great. She turned her phone off or she's ignoring my calls," Andrea said out loud.
"Andrea?"
"Emily! What are you—oh, I guess you're getting coffee," she said, seeing the redhead holding a tray of three venti nonfat no-foam lattes.
"What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to Miranda."
"She gave explicit instructions not to take your calls today," Emily explained.
"But I need to see her, Em. Please. We had a misunderstanding this morning."
"Yes, and I had to clean up the shattered vase. I can't let you up there," she said.
"Okay, when will Miranda be in the town car next?"
"She has an 11:30, so she will be leaving shortly," Emily explained. "Oh no—you can't."
"Em, stay out of it. Just see that she doesn't miss this appointment."
"If you're just going to put her in a horrid mood again, I refuse to pick up any more shards of glass in this silk dress!"
"Relax. Go take her coffee before she fires you," Andrea added, sending Emily scampering away.
Andrea quickly headed across the street after Emily. Finding Roy in the line of town cars, she hopped in the backseat.
"Andy! How's it going?" he asked.
"Ehh, it's been better," she answered honestly. "I need your help."
"Sure, what can I do?"
"You're supposed to take Miranda somewhere at 11:30, right?"
"Yes, her therapist. She should be down in the next five or ten minutes," he said.
"Okay. I need to talk to her privately, so I'm going to just stay here in the car until she gets in, okay?"
"Whatever you say, Andy. Should I still drive her to the appointment?"
"Um, yes," Andrea said. "But just keep the screen up and wait until we tell you to head back."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, offering Andrea a mock salute. "Anything else?"
"Do these doors have child-proof locks?"
"Yes, I believe so," he said. "You need me to ensure Miranda doesn't run off on you?"
"If you don't mind?"
"Sure thing," he said, hopping out of the driver seat and engaging the child safety locks on each of the rear doors. "All set. When the doors are unlocked, they can only be open from the outside, not the inside."
"Perfect," Andrea said, sinking back into the corner of the town car while Roy waited on the curb.
Promptly at 11:15, I marched off the elevators, my Versace sunglasses shielding my eyes from view. The ice hadn't really helped reduce the puffiness after my morning of crying, and even Irv felt the need to call attention to my red eyes. I nodded to Roy as I slipped into the backseat, closing my eyes and sighing.
"Miranda?"
I softly smiled at the familiar voice, but quickly opened my eyes and turned, surprised to see Andrea sitting next to me. Despite our argument earlier, I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and hold her.
"Andrea—I thought—you said—" I couldn't even string a sentence together as I tried to recall her last words to me, something about not being there when I returned home.
"I overreacted," she said, reaching over and taking my hand cautiously. "I'm sorry. I still am a little upset that you're not telling me everything, but I don't want to lose you over this."
"You mean—wait, you're still…here?"
"Yes. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
I smiled and quickly moved closer, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss as she guided my hips to straddle her lap, allowing me to deepen the kiss. Our tongues clashed, my hands moved across every inch of her face, neck, and upper body in a frenzy. I was hungry for her, hysterically kissing her as tears streamed from my eyes, the saltiness mixing with the taste of coffee in my mouth.
She moved her hand from my hip, cupping my cheek gently as she pushed me away. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, desperate to catch my breath and resume kissing her. "I'm sorry," I managed to say between breaths. "Please…give me another chance, Andrea."
"Yes, of course," she said quickly, shifting me off her lap and onto the seat next to her. She kissed me on the cheek and pulled out a tissue, dabbing the tears from my eyes. "We can talk more later," she said, "but I didn't want to interfere with your appointment."
I glanced out the window and saw we were stopped in front of my therapist's building, a brownstone over on East 48th where the first floor had been converted into his office. "I don't have to go, darling. I want to stay here with you," I said, turning back to her.
"It's okay, I'll wait for you if you want."
Just then, I had an idea. Sure, it was unconventional, but it was a step towards fixing the problem I unwrapped this morning. "Come with me," I said.
"What? Seriously? I can't—I mean, I'm not up for—I can't intrude like that."
"Darling, listen. Let me prove that I'm trying to do better to let you in. We won't do a 'couples' thing, and you won't have to say a word if you don't want to. Just sit with me."
"Okay," she said, sighing as she nodded her head.
Peter answered the door, welcoming us and giving Andrea an odd look.
"I brought my friend Andrea today—well, my lover I guess," I added, blushing. "I want her to sit in on our session today."
He reached out and shook Andrea's hand politely before turning back to me. "Miranda, I strongly advise against this. The purpose of therapy is to provide you with a nonjudgmental space where you can speak freely about your fears, struggles, relationships. I would be happy to refer you to someone who specializes in joint counseling—"
"No," I said. "I do not believe we are interested in that right now. I brought Andrea to listen. Anything can be said in front of her, and I am not afraid of her hearing anything I need to say."
"Well, Miranda, we'll do this your way, but just this once. And, you have to understand I will act as if she is not in the room. You will need to arrange something with another therapist if this is to continue."
"That's fine. I almost lost her this morning because I wasn't sharing with her. I can't let that happen again."
"Miranda," she whispered, "I can wait in the car. It's okay, we can talk later," she reassured.
"No," I said, squeezing her hand.
"No," Peter said, echoing me. "Please, Andrea, you are welcome to stay." He ushered us into his office. "Would you like me to pull in another chair?" he asked her.
"No, I think we can share the sofa," she said, taking a seat in the corner and pulling me to lay next to her.
I smiled as I laid back against her chest, kicking my shoes off and resting my feet on the opposite end of the couch. She wrapped her arms gently around my waist and bent down, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I love you," she whispered.
"So," Peter began, "you mentioned something about this morning? Why don't you tell me what happened?"
"I had a little chat with one of my assistants—Emily. Nigel told me Emily was seeing unexplained thingsat my townhouse, and she was suspicious and petrified. I spoke with Emily and reassured her that I was, in fact, seeing someone, so she shouldn't worry about anything she sees or hears. I explained that I needed her utmost discretion until my divorce was finalized, and reassured her that nothing happened between me and this other person until after I was legally separated. I never once mentioned Andrea's name, and I knew Emily would never ask."
"Then what happened?"
"I called Andrea to tell her."
"To tell her you spoke with Emily?"
"Yes. I felt she should know, since it was concerning us. I just didn't think to speak with her first. I'm—I'm not used to running my ideas past other people first," I admitted in way of excuse.
"What did she say?"
"Well, she was upset that I told Emily, but I think what hurt her most was that I let slip the part about being legally separated."
"Why was that?"
"Well, I didn't really mean to say it. I hadn't told Andrea. But, I mean I called her with the intention of sharing information because I thought it was appropriate. I just hadn't thought she would react so strongly."
"So, how did it make you feel when Andrea got upset?" Peter asked.
Andrea softly brushed her fingers along my side, silently reassuring me. "I was hurt, afraid, disappointed in myself, angry."
"Why were you angry?"
"Well, I didn't have to call her. I could have chose not to tell her anything and she would have never known…and this argument could have been avoided."
"Was that your reasoning behind not telling her about the separation a month ago?"
"It was two weeks and five days ago," I quickly clarified. "But yes, I suppose at the time I was thinking that, but as we grew closer, I just couldn't find the right time."
"Okay, so let's get back to where you said you felt disappointed in yourself and afraid. Did you take the blame for causing Andrea's anger?"
"Yes, of course. My actions directly upset her. I should have spoken with her first."
"Miranda, surely you cannot be expected to share every single thing with her. As you said before, you don't need to run your ideas past her, seeking permission."
"I was selfish and not thinking about her. When it comes to my relationship with Andrea, I need to learn to communicate more."
"Okay. Tell me more about why you didn't tell her you were separated—when was it and where were you?"
I sighed and closed my eyes, resting my head back onto Andrea's shoulder. "It was Sunday, and Andrea was on her way over when I spoke to Leslie. Andrea and I had not been…involved…yet, as I kept saying I needed to wait until the divorce was finalized. She was very patient, and reassured me she would wait as long as I needed. Leslie called to tell me the separation was granted by the judge, and reassured me Stephen was not filing for custody. My heart dropped just learning that he could have, but I've already told you that. I don't want to talk about Stephen right now," I said. "I honestly didn't expect Leslie to say that whatever I did after the separation would not affect my divorce—that he couldn't turn around and claim infidelity if nothing happened before the separation, and nothing did."
"So, what happened when she came over?"
"I told her Leslie said the divorce was probably to be finalized in the next two months, and I briefly kissed her, explaining we needed to wait."
"Why didn't you tell her what else Leslie said?" Peter asked.
"I was afraid she would push me. It's crazy, because she was more than patient, but I thought that if she knew I was legally free, she wouldn't accept my excuses."
"Why were you making excuses, knowing you were, in fact, free?"
I paused for a moment, reaching down to lace my fingers with Andrea's. "I was nervous. I had never been with a woman like that, and, well, I didn't want to lose her. Plus, she was still my assistant. It wasn't until the next day that she submitted her resignation and two weeks' notice."
"So, the whole don't fix it if it's not broken mentality? Keep the status quo in fear of the unknown?"
"Yes, I suppose."
"But you eventually changed your mind, I presume? I mean, have you been involved sexually with her since then?"
"Yes," I said. "We spent more time together, she found a new job, and I reintroduced her to my daughters, who seem to love her, too." After a brief pause, I continued. "On the eve of her last day at Runway, I took her on a date to see the Orchid Show in the evening and arranged a private viewing of Pavilion Three. She was irresistible," I said, recalling that evening. "I had never before felt that overwhelming pull towards someone. I simply had to be with her. And, we weren't even drinking," I added with a chuckle. "She came home with me, and, well, at that point, I didn't know when I was going to be able to bring up the separation."
"Why not tell her then?"
"As she has her lips to my—" I paused, shaking my head. "Was I supposed to say, 'By the way, you can keep doing what you're doing because I'm separated.' I guess I just wanted her to think it was my decision to move forward, not that I was just doing it because of the separation."
"Do you think she would have thought that?"
"I don't know," I said, reaching for the glass of water on the table and taking a long sip.
"Okay, back to disclosing your relationship," Peter said. "Were you planning to keep it secret?"
"Well, yes, I suppose. We never sat down to discuss it, but I think we were in agreement that neither of us was ready for people to find out. The girls still didn't know, and neither did James or Stephen. When Leslie mentioned that Stephen could have filed for custody, I began worrying that James would, too, since he had been arguing a bit about it recently."
"And Andrea?"
"Well, she is just about to start a new job, and I didn't want anything like this to tarnish her reputation before she had the chance to show her worth."
"So, did you tell anyone?" Peter asked, quickly scratching something down on his notepad.
"I told Nigel—as I mentioned, he and I are back to being friends like we used to be."
"What was her reaction?"
"Okay. I remember she said something about being glad I had someone to talk to."
"Whom does she talk to?"
"I—I don't know." Andrea must have felt my muscles growing tense, as she softly kissed my cheek and began tracing her finger in circles on my palm.
"What about her family?"
"I know her relationship with her mother has been rather strained since her grandmother passed, but, well, the last time I asked, she didn't want to talk about it."
"What would your family think if you disclosed this relationship?"
"Well, I don't know what the girls would think. I can only hope I've raised them to live with open hearts and minds."
"And the rest of your family? James? Carol? Stephen? …Richard?"
I sighed. "As long as James and Stephen can't use it to take my children from me, I don't care what they think. Carol is sweet and has been such a wonderful grandmother to the girls—I think she would be happy that I'm happy and encourage the girls to do the same."
"And Richard? Miranda, I know you don't like to talk about him, but you can't pretend he doesn't exist."
"He's no longer in my life," I said, sitting up and unwrapping Andrea's arms from my waist.
"But if news breaks and Richard finds out—wouldn't you be concerned?"
"No. He knows I will fire back with details and proof of all the shit he pulled when Mom was dying. He would lose everything."
"Okay. What about Andrea? What would her friends and family think?" Peter asked.
I looked over at Andrea, huddled in the corner of the couch, her knees up to her chest. Without thinking, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my chest. "Is this too much, darling?" I whispered.
"No, go on," she said, burying her head in my neck.
"I don't know what Andrea's friends and family would think," I said quietly. "I have never asked her. I really don't know that much about her like that."
"Do you think maybe that's why she was upset you were making decisions without her and withholding information—because she was worried of her family's reaction?"
I bit my lip. "Yes, that is a possibility," I said. "She did seem to equate my telling Emily with me telling the press," I added, softly tracing circles on Andrea's back.
"Okay, what I'd like you to do in the next few weeks is talk more to Andrea. Try to consciously speak with her before making a decision, even if it's something as ridiculous as which color pen you should write with. Just try it. Also," Peter continued, "I want you to talk to her about same-sex relationships. See what she thinks, what her family thinks, how she thinks they might react. Share your fears with her, but be sure to think of overall well-being and not just in terms of one's professional reputation. And lastly," he added, "I want you to talk to her about your divorce. I think it's perfectly healthy for you to keep some things to yourself, but you need to decide what is going to affect her, and make sure she understands that you may choose to keep some details of your past or private life hidden and buried. Just know that honesty sometimes causes arguments, too, but that's not always a bad thing. As humans, we most frequently express our pure, raw emotions when we're arguing."
I bent down and kissed Andrea on the forehead before standing and shaking Peter's hand. "Thank you," I said before reaching down to take Andrea's hand.
"Miranda, can I just have one minute with you before you leave?" Peter asked.
I turned to look at Andrea. "I'll wait in the car, go ahead," she said, smiling before she stepped out and shut the door.
"Miranda, I've never seen you so relaxed," Peter said.
"Well, she calms me. Having her arms around me just reassures me somehow. I know she cares about me very much and always has my best interests in mind."
"And you reciprocate this?"
"Yes, of course," I said, smiling. "That's kind of how this started—with me comforting her on the plane home from Paris when her grandmother was sick."
"Never lose that," Peter said. "I see too many relationships get bogged down in details, schedules, sexual compatibility; people forget how to simply love one another and how to be physically intimate and honest."
"I know," I said, beaming. "Thank you," I said before slipping out the door.
Back in the town car, I reached over and took Andrea's hand, squeezing gently. "Are you okay? That wasn't too much, was it?"
"I'm fine. I do have a few questions, though." I nodded, knowing at least one of the questions she would ask. "Who is Richard and what happened?"
"Richard is my estranged younger brother. He's a recovering drug addict, though I don't know how successful that has been. I haven't spoken with him since before my mother died. When she was getting bad, I called him and told him he should come see her. He did. And I'm glad he did. But I should have known he would steal all of her prescription medications—oxycodone, percoset, demurol, combunox. I had to contact the police and fill out a burglary report in order for the doctor to write new prescriptions. At least my mother didn't realize what had happened. James spoke to Richard on the phone the morning of her funeral, and Richard convinced him he was getting help and getting his life back on track since he moved to San Francisco. That was the last I heard of him, and as I said, I don't think he will be a problem."
"I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Andrea said.
"It's okay. No one knows, though. I've been telling reporters I was an only child for the past thirty years. Nigel doesn't even know I have a brother," I added, hoping she would feel better knowing that I even keep things from him.
Her eyes widened. "But, what if he finds out?"
"When I first met Nigel, I didn't know we would be friends for the next thirty years. There was really no right time. I can only hope he will understand if I do need to tell him someday," I explained. "What else did you want to ask me?"
"Umm, so, how long have you been seeing Peter? I mean, does he know everything about me?" she asked.
"I've been seeing him since your second day at Runway, about once or twice a month. Emily has always scheduled that appointment. And yes, he knows almost as much about you as I do."
"Wow. Uh, can I ask why you went to see him?"
"Sure. Since that first day I met you, I felt something. I needed you. I didn't know how to explain it. He actually reassured me and let me know I wasn't going crazy. He helped me to consider a same-sex relationship for myself, and encouraged me to get to know you as a person if I felt drawn to you. He encouraged me—perhaps too much, looking back—to think of you as a human being instead of my assistant and employee, and, well, I needed that. It didn't feel right talking to Nigel about it because I knew he was also friends with you."
Andrea nodded and leaned into me. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and squeezed tight. "I love you, Andrea, and I am so sorry I hurt you," I said. "I will work harder to focus on you instead of me. I will learn your needs and your fears—even if you don't want to talk about them—and I will do everything in my power to take care of them. If, of course, you'll let me. And, no more making decisions without you…be prepared for thousands of texts each day," I added with a smile. "Will I see you tonight?" I asked hesitantly as the car pulled to a stop in front of Runway. Sure, we were working things out, but I hoped Andrea didn't feel she needed to stay elsewhere, even for a few days.
"Of course," she said, kissing me softly on the cheek. "I love you."
TBC
a/n: thought i'd offer up some longer chapters to hopefully make up for my delay in regular postings. :) thx for reading!