I didn't wake again until I felt her hand on my shoulder, hours later.

"Miranda, it's 3:15 PM," she said quietly. "Jonathan will be here in an hour."

I yawned and pushed myself up to a seated position. I could hardly believe that I slept all day, but it felt good. My back pain was tolerable, and god knows I needed the rest. I didn't want to think about what didn't get done at the magazine in my absence. Somehow, I knew Andrea was keeping things on track.

She held out her hand and helped me from the bed. My legs felt weak, but the dizziness from last night was gone, and I was able to hold myself up.

"Will you be okay to shower?" she asked.

I nodded. She let go of my arm and I walked into the bathroom to turn on the shower. I always liked to let the room fill with steam before getting in. I thought about what I would wear today. It would be easiest to wear a dress that I could slip over my head, I thought, just in case my back seized up and I couldn't bend over again.

I showered and washed my hair, then wrapped myself in my grey robe after toweling off. I usually sat at my vanity when I do my hair, but today I stood, as it was easier on my back. I tried sitting on the ledge at one point while I was in the shower, but it was far too painful. I knew it would be impossible to shave my legs, but thankfully the hair on my legs was as fine and pale as it was on my head. If I wore an ankle-length dress, no one would notice the stubble.

I tried to style my hair over the small cut on my forehead. Between makeup and my hair, I was sure Jonathan wouldn't notice. Not that it really mattered—he was my lawyer and couldn't say anything anyway. Still, I didn't want him seeing me in a position of weakness.

With hair and makeup in place, I emerged from the bathroom and headed for my closet. The carpeting was wet, but it looked as though Andrea or someone had gotten the blood stains out. I reached up to feel my head instinctively, shuddering when I thought of how long I might have been laying there if she didn't come by.

Selecting an off-the-shoulder ivory sweater dress from my closet, I pulled on my bandeau bra and sat down before slipping into a nude lace thong. My back was definitely hurting, but at least I was able to get my underwear on, I thought.

As I was pulling the dress over my head, Andrea knocked on the door.

"Just a minute," I called as I smoothed out the dress and readjusted my bra. With a quick glance in the mirror, I left the closet and opened the door to my bedroom.

"Wow," she said. "I—you look great. That was really quick."

"I'm experienced," I said with a smile.

"I have a steak salad downstairs for you—you should probably eat something with all this medication," she said. "And you kind of slept through the past few meals."

I nodded and carefully walked out of the room. When I stepped down the first stair, I could feel my back beginning to seize. I paused and took a deep breath, and Andrea noticed. Of course she did—she noticed everything.

Silently, she held out her arm for me. Supporting myself on the banister and her arm, I was able to make it down the stairs, where I quickly dropped to my knees.

"Miranda!"

"I'm fine," I said, knowing I needed to catch my breath from the painful walk down. "Give me a minute."

She walked away, and returned with an ice pack that she held to my lower back. "Stay here for a few minutes with the ice," she said.

"What time is it?" I asked after a while.

"4:02. Can you make it to the dining room table?"

I nodded and allowed her to help me up. It was strange that she suggested the dining room—I only ever used that room for formal dining, but before I could think more about it, I saw why. Andrea had brought items from my study downstairs to the dining room, spreading layouts and papers across the table. And she connected the conference speakerphone from my office here at the table. She did this so Jonathan would not question the change in venue, or my demeanor.

"Thank you," I said quietly, sitting at the head of the table where space had been reserved for my salad. She had my pain pill laid out for me, but not the muscle relaxer.

"Jonathan will be here in a few minutes. I'll show him here to the dining room, and then I'll head upstairs and keep myself busy. Is there anything else you will need?" she asked.

I swallowed the medication. "I'll have that later. One thing—I am sorry to ask, but can you retrieve my bone de La Renta heels? The medium height—they're in my closet."

"Of course," she said. She first went to the kitchen and brought out a lovely looking salad, then went upstairs and returned shortly after with the heels. I nodded, indicating they were the correct ones, and she dropped to her knees, sliding my feet into the shoes as if they were Cinderella's slipper.

"Andrea?" I heard myself say. "Would you mind—" I paused. I couldn't ask her to sit with me while we talk to my ex-husband and his attorney. It wasn't right. "Never mind," I said. I took a few more bites of the salad, picking out the steak and leaving the lettuce, as I always did.

She looked at me curiously. "Do you mind me asking what this meeting is about?" she said.

"Stephen is no longer receiving an alimony check, so he's trying to sue me," I said.

"Oh, wow. So, he's what, claiming that you should keep supporting him indefinitely?"

"No. But I'm sure that's somewhere in the back of his mind. He is trying to sue me for damages resulting from our marriage. As if I am to blame for his impotence," I huffed, rolling my eyes. I didn't know why I was explaining myself, but it just felt right with Andrea.

"Wait. He can't get it up and now it's your fault?"

"Apparently so," I said with a smirk.

"How is that even valid? I mean, it's not like you castrated him or anything," she said.

I laughed at that one. "Well, metaphorically I may have," I added. I never expected anything remotely sexual to come out of her mouth. It was intriguing, and I suddenly found myself wanting to tell her more, to see how far she would take it. "His lawyer is arguing that because I was so frigid and inattentive during the last year of our marriage, constantly denying him sex, his impotence is a result of inactivity."

"You have got to be kidding me," Andrea said.

"Oh I wish," I replied. How I wished I was joking. How I wished I had never married him in the first place. "Apparently his lawyer has a doctor who will testify to this fabricated science."

"What are you going to do?"

I smiled. I may not have been a great wife, but my housekeeper more than earned her worth. "Cara had photos of the women he cheated on me with. We were able to contact at least two of them who were willing to go on the record that they had sex with him during the last year of our marriage. And he had no problem whatsoever getting it up with them."

"Wow. That's… so, he brought them here, to your home?" Andrea asked. She was scandalized.

"Worse. The girls were home on at least one occasion," I said. Cara was a godsend, though, and she kept the girls distracted so that they never noticed. I chuckled again. This whole situation was so ridiculous—it was almost unbelievable.

"Miranda, I am so sorry."

My expression quickly changed. "I am not interested in your pity." I suddenly felt defensive. I pushed away from the table to stand and grimaced as pain seared through me. The pain pill hadn't had enough time to work.

I took my plate to the kitchen and set it on the counter. She didn't follow me, so maybe that good sense of hers was kicking in and she knew I needed to be alone.

The doorbell rang, and I heard her run to the door while I made my way back to the dining room. For the next hour, as I spoke with Jonathan and listened to Stephen and his lawyer—a ditzy female, naturally—whine on the telephone, my mind drifted back to Andrea. I didn't intend to be so harsh with her—it just came out. And while it was true, that I did not want her pity, I regretted the way I spoke to her and dismissed her. She had been nothing short of wonderful this entire time, and I reacted too harshly.

I must have spaced out of the conversation entirely with the lawyers, as I suddenly felt Jonathan's hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, then at the phone, which was no longer connected to the call.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"I—I—I'm fine," I stammered. "My mind drifted there for a minute."

He sighed. "I know this is rough, but I promise you, that cheating bastard will not see another dime from you," he said. He brushed his thumb along my bare shoulder and reached up to cup my cheek with his other hand. I froze and looked up at him. "Miranda, I'm here if there's anything you need."

I opened my mouth to speak, but before the words could come out, he closed his eyes and leaned forward to kiss me.

My reflexes quickly kicked in and I reached up to push his face away. Had I not been so distracted, I would have slapped him across the face. "Leave my house," I said calmly.

"Miranda, I thought that—I just wanted to help," he said.

"Take your things and go," I said.

"But I thought that was what you wanted, wearing that sexy dress and inviting me here to your home—"

"You misunderstood. Please leave," I said. "Now." Why is it that a woman's clothing is perceived as an invitation for god knows what? I was furious, but tried not to show it. I picked up a pencil and pretended to get back to work, scribbling a note on the closest piece of paper that I wanted to get an article on this in our next issue.

He gathered his papers and left the dining room without another word. When I heard the door close, I sighed and kicked off my heels. I pushed the chair away from the table and stood, feeling a tightness in my back once again. I could still smell him and feel his rough hands on me. It sent a chill through my entire body.

I walked over to the couch and sank into the cushions, curling onto my side as I felt my emotions surging. I couldn't pinpoint what had made me so emotional, and I started to cry—not just a few tears, but rather this tremendous overflowing of emotion. I was a mess.

I had fought off my share of unwanted advances in the past, but somehow this was different. And it's not that the gesture itself was unwanted—it was more the fact that it was coming from him, and older man who had known me for years, who fought for me through two divorces. And that comment he made about my dress.

Andrea appeared in the dining room, and the look in her eyes reminded me of the harsh words I spoke to her before Jonathan arrived. I felt an urge to apologize, to tell her I would accept her pity or anything she had to give me. I wanted her to comfort me. This realization only made me cry harder, and I buried my face in the pillows.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, and the sensation sent sparks through my body. "What can I do?" she asked quietly. She softly stroked my shoulder, and I couldn't help but think about how soft and warm her hand felt—so unlike Jonathan's. My eyes fluttered open.

"I wish you would tell me what happened and let me help you," she whispered.

I didn't want to tell her about him. I didn't want to tell her about anything, in fact. I wanted her arms around me, and it terrified me. Never in my life had I felt that way about someone—even James, who I loved more than any of them. I never had this desire to be held by him.

She softly rubbed my arm and I felt a shiver through my body.

"Come on, you'll be more comfortable upstairs," she said, reaching for my elbow.

I pushed myself up and allowed her to help me up. I refused to look into her eyes, afraid of what I might find. She wrapped her arm around my waist and led me back upstairs. "How is your back?"

"Still sore," I said as I sat on the bed. She brought me another dose of pain medication with a muscle relaxer and a fresh ice pack.

"Stay with me?" I heard myself say. I bit my lower lip. There was no way she would agree to this, and I already felt foolish for asking. When she didn't respond, I cracked my eyes open, hoping she hadn't just walked away.

Her sincere brown eyes gazed back at me. "I will gladly stay," she said with a smile. "Do you mind if I sit up on the bed like last night?"

I shook my head as I willed the medication to kick in. Andrea settled next to me, and I reached out for her hand, squeezing it tightly. Without another thought, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke early the next morning, Andrea was already awake and dressed. I was still wearing my dress from the previous day. She asked how I slept, then helped me out of bed. My back was actually very sore, and she must have noticed that I was disoriented.

"Today is Thursday," she said. "You have a follow-up appointment with Dr. Stevens this morning at 8, and they requested you wait until after the appointment to take any medication, if possible."

I took a deep breath and headed to the shower. When I was finished, I put on a skirt and blouse and reluctantly grabbed a pair of Chanel flats. Andrea must have been in the hallway listening for me, because when I reached the top of the stairs, she appeared out of nowhere, watching carefully as I descended.

I went into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the counter to eat a muffin. I could barely keep the food down. My back was so sore, it was making me nauseous.

I glanced up at the clock—7:30. His office was only a few blocks away, but I didn't know how much longer I could tolerate the pain. And I hesitated to say anything to Andrea, but it was beginning to spread, shooting down my leg and into my left calf.

She must have been able to sense my discomfort, because she held out an ice pack and gestured towards the couch.

"Let's go now. I'd rather wait at his office than here," I said. "Is Roy outside?"

Andrea nodded and gathered her bag. "Will you be okay on the front steps?" she asked.

I nodded and followed her out the door. She held out her arm for assistance as we walked down the steps, and even though I really didn't need it, I wanted her to see how much I appreciated the gesture.

Inside the car, I was extremely uncomfortable, but found that leaning forward in my seat produced the least pain.

"Would you like some coffee? We have time—I'll run in for you, of course, but the Starbucks is in the lobby of the doctor's office," Andrea said.

I took a deep breath. "No. But go ahead and order something for yourself and Roy, too," I said. She looked up at me and just shook her head.

A few minutes later, we pulled up to the office building. I could tell something was wrong, but I didn't want to push her on the coffee issue—or anything else for that matter.

When we entered the office upstairs, the receptionist had to actually unlock the door for us—we were that early. She offered us some water or anything else to make us more comfortable, and she said the doctor would see me as soon as he arrived.

"I want to apologize for yesterday," I said quietly. Andrea looked confused, so I figured I needed to clarify. "The way I snapped at you," I said.

"Oh, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"No, Andrea, it's not okay. You have been nothing short of extraordinary these past few days, and it is not okay for me to speak to you like that," I said. "I know you don't pity me like that."

"I meant to tell you, your lawyer's office sent a confidential email this morning. I didn't mean to open it—it was an accident. I only saw the first sentence, but it, um," she nervously bit her lip, "it appears that you will need to find another law firm to represent you."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could speak, the nurse poked her head out of the door.

"The doctor will see you now, Ms. Priestly," she said.

"I was expecting that," I said, carefully pushing myself up from the chair. I almost asked the young woman to come back with me, but then I would have felt the need to explain why my lawyer had suddenly dropped me as a client.

I followed the nurse into the exam room and was surprised to see Dr. Haller again.

"You?" I said.

"You're the one who made the appointment, Miranda. You may leave if you wish," he said. "I was under the impression you were still having pain."

I sighed. "I am, and it's unbearable this morning. I am usually much nicer," I said, flashing a fake smile his way. He seemed to respond well enough to that, so I put it out of my mind.

"You appear to be in pain," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Is it that obvious?"

"Did the medication help at all?"

"Well, yes. The pain medication did provide some temporary relief, but it also made me tired, as did the muscle relaxer. The muscle relaxer was actually a little too relaxing," I said, thinking back to the early hours of the morning spent on the floor, unable to move my limbs.

"Yes, your assistant called the office and let us know. I'd like to draw some blood work, then send you for an MRI. Have you been feeling any other symptoms?"

I sighed. "The pain has been shooting down my leg—but that just started yesterday, really. I'm sure I just slept funny."

"Miranda, the MRI will confirm this, but I think your pain is actually caused by a spinal stenosis, or a narrowing of the spinal column that surrounds the nerve. It's actually quite common in patients over fifty, and I think with the right combination of medication, you should be just fine," he said. He scribbled down something on his notepad and handed Miranda two slips of paper.

"That's all?" I asked, rolling my eyes at the "over fifty" comment.

"You'll have to go to the hospital annex for the lab and imaging. Just walk in and hand them that, and you'll be good to go," he said, standing and walking to the door. "Oh, and just fax over whatever paperwork your insurance requires—you'll need at least six weeks off your feet to properly heal. Oh, and keep taking the painkillers and muscle relaxers until your test results come back."

I was in shock. A nurse came in and led me out to the waiting room, where Andrea was sitting.

"Look, I'm sorry. I don't know when I will be free…No, I'm still in New York, but…" she paused. "I gotta go," she said, ending the call and jumping to her feet. I seemed to have an uncanny ability to catch her in the middle of private conversations. I could only imagine whom she was apologizing to now.

"I have to go to the Annex for a few tests," I said, walking out the door. As long as I kept moving, I didn't have to think about the pain.

In the car, I sat there leaning forward on my elbows. Andrea was digging for something in her bag, and I practically jumped when I felt her hand on my back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said. I sat up a little, but she didn't remove her hand from my back. "I have your pain medication," she said.

"Oh thank god," I said. I accepted the bottle of water and swallowed down a pill. I only wished it worked immediately.

"I hate to ask this, but, Miranda, are you going to be able to go back to work?" she said. I could hardly process the question while her hand was still on my back, tracing tiny circles.

"I—I—yes, eventually. He wants me to rest for six weeks," I said with a sigh.

"Oh no, Miranda! But he thinks you'll be better by then?"

I just shrugged. I didn't want to talk about it, so I sat back and put my sunglasses on, gazing out at the traffic.

We didn't speak again until later that afternoon, after Andrea picked up some papers for me from Runway. I suspected the team had been falling behind in my absence, so I was thoroughly disappointed to find everything perfectly normal, as if I hadn't even been gone.

I poured myself one finger of scotch and curled up in the corner of the couch. I knew I was getting older, but that didn't mean I was obsolete. As the warm scotch trickled down my throat, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift away.

I woke up a few minutes later when Andrea sat on the sofa next to me.

"You shouldn't be drinking with your medication," she said, taking the glass from my hand.

"I know. I read the email from my lawyers—after the way I sent Jonathan home yesterday, it really comes as no surprise," I said.

"Did he side with Stephen or something?"

I laughed and shook my head, my hair falling over my eye. I was not expecting that response at all. "He kissed me—or tried to—and I pushed him away and asked him to leave. I knew when he walked out the front door that I would never see him again," I said.

"I'm sor—I mean, um, that's interesting," she said.

I reached out for her hand, squeezing it softly. "It is pathetic and disgusting, and I even feel a little sorry for myself," I said.

Andrea reached up and brushed my hair out of my face. I inhaled sharply at the unexpected contact, and our eyes met. I couldn't think clearly—my mind was still foggy with a combination of the medication and alcohol. Her eyes kept darting between my eyes and my lips, and I let myself indulge for a moment. She was so beautiful, so stunning. I was sure her lips would be as soft as her touch.

Then a cell phone rang, just as she was leaning closer. She quickly jumped up and excused herself to take the call.

.

.

TBC

A/N: hope you're liking it...gave you a bit of a longer chapter this time because I won't be able to post for a while.