7.

"You're still here?"

The question was barely audible, yet the raspy whisper sounded like a cry echoing through the quiet room. Miranda looked up from the book she was reading and peered at Andy above her reading glasses. The brunette slowly sat up in her bed. Pulling up her legs she rested her chin on her knees and repeated again. This time it was more a statement than a question.

"You're still here."

Miranda nodded and turned her attention back to the book. Andy's book. She had started reading it as soon as things had been settled and she was entirely captivated. It was more a tale of a bittersweet journey of self-awareness through food than just a simple collection of recipes. Her daughters, especially Cassidy would enjoy reading it. Cassidy loved watching cooking shows and she had an extensive collection of cookbooks. She made a mental note to ask for a signed copy.

"You're still here!" The third time it sounded almost like an accusation.

Miranda put the book down and carefully placed her glasses on the top of it. She rose from the well-worn, comfortable armchair she'd been curled up in for the last three hours and walked to the window. Pulling the curtain she peeked out. Yesterday's storm was gone, the warm sunrays reflected brightly on the fresh white blanket of snow. A new day with the promise of a new beginning. New beginning? How lame is that she thought. We have to deal with our present first, chase away all the demons of the past and that's when we can talk about building a happier future. Happiness. She did not remember how it felt. How it tasted. How it smelt. She did not remember happiness at all. Sighing deeply she turned back to the younger woman, who was just starring at her silently. She cracked a small, reassuring smile.

"Yes. I am still here."

"Why?"

The question took her surprise. Was she supposed to leave? Did this poor girl really think that Miranda would leave her alone after all that happened? If the look on the brunette's face was any indication, then yes. The younger woman was clearly surprised if not confused at seeing Miranda still around. The editor sat down on the edge of the bed, mindful to not to touch the other woman.

"I'm here because you need me. It is that simple"

"It's never that simple."

"It was for you, when you helped me."

"That was different."

"Different. How?"

"Dunno. Just different."

"I see." and Miranda really did. She saw that Andy was withdrawing. The sweet, vibrant woman she'd almost kissed this morning had disappeared. The unexpected incident with her ex-boyfriend had robbed her and took away her spirit.

"I understand how you feel. I'm sorry that you are pushing me away, because I know you need help. You need someone to rely on."

Hearing her own words from earlier brought tears to Andy's eyes but she did not answer. She could not look at Miranda anymore. She fixed her eyes on her own hands, fidgeting nervously with the bracelet, hanging loosely on her wrist. The sleeve of her shirt slid up, reveling the ugly bruises Nate left behind. Miranda winced at the sight. She reached out and gently caressed the smooth, warm skin, unaware how her action caused the other woman to shiver. The blue-black marks were in harsh contrast to the pale complexion of the brunette and Miranda felt her wrath awakening again. What would have happened if she had not gotten there on time? She remembered the terror in Andrea's voice, as she was pleading for that man to let her go. The ultimate fear on her face. She remembered how her own heart was pounding heavily in her chest when she entered the café and saw that caveman attacking Andrea.

"Let. Her. Go. Now. "

The command startled both Andy and Nate. Andy had not expected Miranda to be still there and Nate had not expected anyone to be around. In his surprise he released Andy's arm and hastily stepped back. Andy stumbled backward and landed safely, in Miranda's arms. Nate on the other hand was not that lucky. He learnt the hard way that there was a reason why karma was called a bitch. His foot slipped on one of the half eaten cinnamon rolls he had thrown on the floor and he fell. In his fall, before the hard floor knocked him out, his alcohol clouded mind registered two facts. One, his ex-girlfriend was being cradled in the arms of his long time obsession Miranda Priestly and two, because of that he was in trouble. A very deep and possibly life changing trouble.

Miranda had not realized that she was clutching the bed cover until a warm hand gently covered hers. She relaxed, all the tension immediately faded away by the light touch. Andy folded their fingers together, leaning forward she rested her forehead against Miranda's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. You saved me and I haven't even thanked you."

"I don't want you to thank me, Andrea. I want you to let it out and feel better. I want you to cry. Scream. Break something. You are quiet. Too quiet. And that worries me."

Miranda held on to Andy tightly. The brunette stood still for a long moment, then shook her head in disbelief.

"I was told that I can bake a mean cinnamon roll. I guess it's true."

She untangled herself from Miranda's embrace without another word and walked out of the room. Miranda pulled out her phone, made a quick call and then hurried after Andy. She heard the shower running so she waited impatiently in the living room. Long minutes passed but the younger woman did not emerge from the bathroom. Her phone rang and she spoke softly, giving orders about cleaning, baking and taking the garbage out. An hour later everything was back in order. The mess in the café was cleaned up, the cinnamon rolls baked and delivered. And the garbage was taken out. The police were not involved, as the editor wanted to make sure that Nate got the message loud and clear. Do not bother Andrea ever again. So she let her private security expert handle the situation.

"I'm all right. This is my way to cope with this, Miranda. I don't cry. I don't scream. Not anymore."

Miranda was on the phone, talking to her daughters when Andy finally got out of the bathroom. She was pale and shaky. She did not talk, she did not look at Miranda. She went straight to her bedroom, got under the cover and was asleep in seconds.

Miranda reached out and pulled Andy into her lap. The younger woman snuggled close, resting her head on Miranda's chest she inhaled deeply. Then again. The first sob came like a soft whimper. And then she broke. Miranda rocked her gently while she cried, occasionally placing soft kisses on her forehead. After a while Andy stopped crying and they just sat there, enjoying the intimacy of their closeness. Miranda lightly grazed the blue marks on Andy's arm with her fingers.

"Bastard" she murmured.

"These bruises will heal in time." whispered Andy, her voice hoarse from crying "Unlike the others' she added in a flat tone.

Miranda tensed.

"What do you mean?"

"This is not his best work. Not even close."