I opened my eyes, only to find darkness. I wasn't entirely sure that I was awake and conscious—in fact, I hoped that I wasn't. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see that I was on the floor of my bedroom, but strangely, I couldn't move. My limbs felt as though they were weighted down, pinned to the ground by an invisible force. My eyelids fell closed as I once again succumbed to the darkness.

At nearly 10:00 PM that night, the Book was finally ready. Apparently, even though I was out of the office, there were still hundreds of changes in the queue for the team. Andrea hoped that the medication had allowed me some much-needed rest, so she entered the townhouse quietly, and made her way upstairs to my room. She turned on the hall light and cracked the door, surprised when she didn't see me in my bed.

"Miranda?" she called, turning the bedroom light on. I heard her gasp.

"Andrea," I whispered. I still couldn't move.

She hurried to my side, and I could feel her hands on my arms, my cheek.

"Oh my god! You're bleeding. What happened?" she asked. "Or you were bleeding. Do you need me to call 911?"

"No," I managed to say.

"I'm getting a towel," she said, running into my bathroom and coming back with a damp cloth and a dry towel. She knelt next to me and dabbed the towel on my forehead. "How long have you been here like this?" she asked.

The blood must have clotted, I thought to myself. That means I'm not dying, not bleeding out, as they say. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words weren't there. I felt tears on my cheeks and were shocked to find they were my own.

Andrea held the wet cloth to my temple, applying pressure to the wound. I would have done that, had I been able to move my arms.

"It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine. It's just a small cut, and it looks like the bleeding has stopped," she said. Once the dried blood was mostly cleaned up, she put the towels aside. "Can I help you up and back to the bed?"

I closed my eyes and nodded, but as I tried to push myself up, I realized I still had little control of my limbs. "I can hardly move," I whispered.

She looked scared, and I tried to ignore that. Instead of panicking, she impressed me—she helped me to roll onto my knees, then she was able to lift me to my feet. Unfortunately I couldn't do much in the way of walking, so she had to awkwardly drag me to the bed and help me up.

I was laying against the pillows, half sitting up. The gray blanket was draped over me, and I felt Andrea sitting next to me, holding an ice pack to my head. "Thank you," I whispered.

She smiled. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I think that muscle relaxer was too strong for you. You probably need to let it work its way out of your system. Can you drink some water?" she asked.

I nodded, and she handed me a glass of water from the nightstand. My hand was shaking as I reached for the glass, and despite my best effort, I couldn't hold the glass. Andrea didn't say a word, silently lifting the glass to my lips and allowing me to take a sip. She repeated this several times, and the cool water felt good on my throat.

Andrea sat next to me, holding the ice to my forehead. The last thing I recall before drifting off to sleep was hearing her quietly making calls, leaving messages to reschedule my appointments for the rest of the week.

When I woke again, the morning light was pouring through the windows. It had to have been at least 5:00 AM. I smiled when I saw Andrea had fallen asleep next to me. I didn't have the heart to wake her, so I picked up my phone and began checking my email and texts.

It wasn't until I sent a message to James, the girls' father, that I realized I could see clearly once again. And I had no difficulty holding my phone or anything like that. When I pushed myself up to sit at the edge of the bed, I again felt the throbbing pain in my back, a sign that the medication did, in fact, work its way through my bloodstream.

"Hey, how is your back this morning? And your head?" Andrea asked sleepily as she sat up herself.

"My back is still sore, and my head is—" I paused and reached up, feeling a swollen, painful spot just at the far side of my left eyebrow "—tender. I don't know what happened. I've never reacted like that to medication," I said.

"I am just glad that it was nothing serious," Andrea said.

I thought about how frightened she looked last night, and how she must have struggled getting me off the floor and into bed. "You didn't have to stay here with me all night. I appreciate it, though."

Andrea shrugged it off. "I'll work from here today, if you don't mind. I just need to stop home to shower and change and grab something to eat," she said. She walked up to my bedside and held out her hand. "Let me help you to the bathroom. When I come back at 9, I can help with your clothes if you need."

I didn't know what to say to her offer, so I just nodded. In truth, I was a little nervous to be alone after what happened last night. My back was sore again this morning, so I knew I would need to take more medication, and with Cara on vacation for the rest of the summer, if something happened to me, it could be days before someone found me.

When I finished doing my business in the bathroom, Andrea helped me back to bed, under the covers this time, and gave me a pain pill before she left. I wanted to tell her she didn't have to go home—that she could use the guest bathroom and she could borrow something from my closet, but I was worried that would appear too needy. She planned to return, and knowing that, I was able to close my eyes and drift off into a deep sleep.

Several hours later, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, nudging me awake. "Miranda, you need to take more pain medication. Round the clock for the first two days," she said, handing me one and a half pills and a glass of water.

"What's that half?"

"Your muscle relaxant. I called the doctor back this morning and he said you should take half if it's too strong. It's the lowest dosage they make, but you're small and probably hadn't eaten yesterday," she explained.

I swallowed the pills and finished the glass of water. I was not small. Hardly. But I let that slide. "What time is it?"

"About 10:30 AM," Andrea said. "I rearranged your schedule last night, but there's one call I think you will still need to take, if you are feeling up to it."

"Honestly, I can take all of my calls. I don't need—which one couldn't you reschedule?"

Andrea bit her lip. "You and Jonathan have a call with Stephen and his attorney this afternoon. I wanted to check with you before rescheduling."

I sighed. We were supposed to talk about the settlement. Despite our prenuptial agreement, I had been more than willing to help him out with a little alimony until he found someone else. In return, he was not to give any scathing interviews or share any of the more personal details of my life that he was privy to.

"Do you want me to try and reschedule that?" she asked.

"No. Call Jonathan and let him know we will call from here instead of my office," I said. "And do not say a word about my back or anything."

"Oh no, of course not. I never said a thing to anyone," she said. "I hope you know I would never do that to you.

I did know that, but thinking of Stephen always reminded me of Paris, and that unnerved me.

"I understand, though, if you still can't trust me," she said, looking down at the floor. "I'll go call Jonathan."

I felt terrible for letting her walk out without saying a word, but the truth was that I didn't know what would come out of my mouth. I did trust her. Completely. But she thought I didn't, after everything that happened between us. Maybe I was imagining it all.

Andrea left the door open, and she must have been standing somewhere in the hallway or perhaps on the stairs, because I could hear her voice traveling through the house.

"Yes, I'm calling from Miranda Priestly's office. Miranda will not be at Elias-Clarke for her meeting with Jonathan this afternoon. She requests that he come to her home for the call….No, nothing has changed….Yes, thank you."

There really was something about that woman's voice. Or rather, its effect on me: it was comforting. I heard the young woman sigh, and then she began talking again.

"Nate, listen, please. I'm sorry I missed dinner last night—there are just some things that came up….We need to give our landlord 30 days' notice, so we have one more month of rent….I don't care if my name is on the lease! We agreed to split it!….Ugh, Nate you're a real asshole, do you know that?…Stop talking about her like that—you have no right to say those things. You don't know her like I do…"

I knew I shouldn't have been listening to her conversation, but I couldn't help it. From what I gathered, Nate was the young woman's boyfriend, possibly ex-boyfriend. And they were talking about another woman, one who Andrea was defending vehemently. This was more than I wanted to know, but I couldn't stop listening, even if it was going to change the current image I had of the woman.

"Nate, it's my job, you know that….Look, if a fifty-year-old woman makes you this insecure, I think you're the one with the problem….Fine! I'll sell your TV to help with your half of the rent….Stop it. There is nothing like that between us. I don't know how many times I have to tell you. She is not my….Okay, that was one time! I am her assistant, my life revolves around her. Of course I say her name often!….Look, we are not having this conversation. Go fuck yourself."

I bit my lip. Surely that couldn't have been about me, right? Why was Andrea's boyfriend accusing her of there being something between her and this other woman? And what happened one time—had she said that name during… Oh god, here came the images of her sex-flushed cheeks again, crying out my name.

She poked her head back into my bedroom and I was still staring at the doorway. "Were you able to contact Jonathan?" I asked.

"Yes. His office confirms he will be here for your call at 4:30," she said.

"Andrea, I couldn't help but hear your last call—"

"Oh god," she said, bringing her hand up to cover her eyes. "How much did you hear?"

"I couldn't make out specifics, but you sounded upset. Is everything alright?"

Andrea frowned. "It will be fine."

"Andrea…"

"I'm not going to bore you with details. My boyfriend and I split a while back, and we're still fighting over stuff," she said.

I let her use of the word stuff slip. "Unfortunately, I understand that all too well," I said, thinking of my call with Stephen and the lawyers this afternoon. "Thank you for staying last night. I am sure you would have rather been elsewhere."

"That's not true. I am glad I stayed."

"Well…" I could feel the medication starting to work. It was difficult to keep my eyes open, and I knew I would be asleep in minutes. "Andrea, I am going to rest for a bit. Would you mind," I took a deep breath, "staying here with me?—in case I have another reaction to the medication?"

"Of course. I might be in and out of your room, but I won't be more than a few feet away," she said.

As I expected, I quickly drifted off to sleep.

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TBC - just a short update. let me know if you're liking it so far!