15.

"How. Dare. You?"

Miranda's question made absolutely no sense. Nor did her soft, almost inaudible icy tone and in contrast the fury in her eyes. Nor did her finger, repeatedly jabbing Andy's chest, emphasizing each word she spat out.

"How. Dare. You."

Andy tried to dodge the next poke with a quick backward step but she hit the wall and there was no room to maneuver any further. Fortunately, Miranda stiffened in mid-motion and retreated, putting a much needed distance between them. Andy blinked rapidly uncertain of their standing. What was happening? She expected heightened emotions from the editor after revealing her condition. She had catalogued them in advance. Disgust, pity, rejection. She could work with those. Handle them masterfully. However looking at the older woman who was now leaning against the bookcase on the other side of the room, she saw none of those.

Anger. There was pure anger written on Miranda's face. Fury radiating from every pore of her rigid body.

"No. You can't be angry with me. That's not how you are supposed to react."

Andy's voice was thin, almost pleading. Surely, Miranda would understand that right? She would accept that anger was Andy's kryptonite. Anger paralyzed her, made her unable to think, to act. She was almost completely vulnerable against it. It was something she had been working on with her therapist and although she had succeeded on a certain level, she still had struggles. She could block strangers' animosity or people's she didn't care about. But when it came from someone she loved, she froze. And there it was. That realization which made the whole situation even more impossible. She knew that her behavior toward the older woman was unpredictable and could have been interpreted as she playing push and pull with Miranda. It could not have been further from the truth, as it wasn't a game of any kind. The physical attraction between them was immediate, although on Andy's side it rapidly developed into something deeper than primal sexual need. She loved Miranda. More precisely she was in love with her. Telling Miranda about her feelings, wasn't an option, when she couldn't collect herself enough to provide a coherent thought. Besides she doubted that they were on the same page if the editor's unexpected anger was any indicator of her intentions. The first wave of anxiety was right on schedule and she rode through it expertly. She braced herself for the next one she knew would follow soon. Taking deep breaths she leaned against the wall, seeking a solution to avoid a full force panic attack. She looked at Miranda and whimpered.

"Please, you can't be angry."

"I can't? Pray tell Andrea, how exactly am I supposed to feel? Tell me what my predicted behavior is in your script? Am I supposed to feel grossed out? State that while you are a nice person I can't overlook your scars? Call you a freak, perhaps? Or should I pity you instead? Say something along the lines of how unfortunate this is, then walk away? Because clearly, in your mind you have already decided the outcome, haven't you?"

Miranda was so wrapped in her own emotions that she failed to see Andy's distress. Her words were like physical punches. They hit hard. Andy wasn't able to evade them. They were aimed with precision, targeting the right spots. Every single word was true and Andy wondered how Miranda had come to see her so well, in so short an amount of time. Hugging herself she lowered her head and murmured her calming mantra, while trying to process the situation. If Miranda had figured Andy out, why was she angry? Why?

"Why are you angry with me?"

Before facing Andy, Miranda had the same question echoing in her mind but unlike Andy, she had an answer to it. She understood Andy's way of thinking, how she attempted to scare Miranda away. She knew it was rooted in her past, her relationship with Ed and that bastard Nate. Still she was angry. However, despite what Andy thought, Miranda was not angry with her. Finally looking across the room she became conscious of Andy's discomfort.

"Oh Darling. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry for you."

"For me?" Andy snapped her head up and frowned. "For me?"

Pushing away from the bookcase, Miranda approached Andy, stopping close enough to touch her if she wanted, but she didn't. Searching Andy's face she established eye contact, claiming the young woman's full attention.

"I'm angry with that low life bastard, who hurt you." said Miranda. "I'm angry that you had to go through all that pain. I'm angry that he made you believe that you were somehow less because of your injury, that he tried to destroy your beautiful soul. I'm angry with Ed that she wasn't there for you. I'm angry at all the devastating moments in your life. But most of all. I'm angry that I wasn't there to protect you. I wish I could have been there, but I couldn't. And don't tell me that it makes no sense. I'm aware of that. "

Miranda didn't care if it was a stupid mid-life crisis or some ridiculous cliché from a cheap romance novel. She wanted in. She wanted to take the hand of this wonderful, perplexing woman and walk toward the sunset. She wanted to embrace all the conflicting emotions this journey came with. Leading or being led, didn't really matter as long as they were traveling together. And it was something knew, unfamiliar territory for Miranda. Normally, it would have frightened her but there was nothing normal about their circumstances. How they met, how this girl put her through an emotional shock therapy in less than three short days, it was anything but ordinary. A couple of years ago Miranda visited an old friend – yes she had friends - in Finland and she was talked into trying ice swimming. A quick dip in freezing water, afterwards a relaxing warm up in the hot sauna. She was assured that this method had many health benefits, also an overall healing effect on the body. It must have been true, after trying it for several days, her mood improved and temporarily she got rid of her insomnia. Being with Andrea reminded her of that Finnish experience, except it wasn't her body that was exposed to the extremes. Receiving an almost blank stare and no verbal reaction from the younger woman, Miranda puffed mildly frustrated. Was this girl even listening to her?

"You don't understand do you? And here I thought I had myself a smart one."

She needn't have worried though. Andy was listening to her. Her analytical mind systematically catalogued every one of Miranda's words, carefully processing all the possible meanings behind them. Adding the last three days' worth events to it, she run scenarios, variation after variation, just to be end up with the same result over and over again. Her days of traveling alone were over. She had finally arrived at a safe harbor, docked her ship and was free to do anything she yearned for. Stay or sail away it was her choice, but she was certain that no matter where she was headed, she would always have Miranda to accompany her. Andy was no fool to think, that it was going to be easy. They had just met. Their relationship had barely started first grade and there was a long and bumpy journey to college graduation. Andy gratefully embraced the relief, her train of thoughts delivered. Her anxiety toned down, giving space to the more manageable anticipation and something she would describe as primal, raw need to be physically close to the older woman. Andy launched forward and Miranda yelped in surprise by the sudden move.

"Andrea what …"

The question died on Miranda's lips as she was locked in an embrace and a hungry mouth descended on hers. This kiss was different. Nothing like the sweet kiss in Miranda's office or the small pecks they shared here and there. And it most definitely did not resemble any kisses she had ever received. As clumsy as it was, it still had the potential to shake Miranda's world and ruin her for anything else. And that's exactly what happened. She acknowledged that there was no way back from here. It was either Andrea for the rest of her life, or no one.

Andy was not an experienced kisser. She knew she lacked the technique and her nose had the tendency to act as a block when she tried to find the right angle. It wasn't different this time. Their noses bumped together, but Miranda didn't seem to be bothered by it. She opened up to Andy and moaned blissfully when her warm tongue met hers. Somehow they made it to the couch. Sitting, Andy pulled Miranda onto her lap. The intensity of their kissing slowed down, and turned into playful nibbles and gentle caressing.

"I understood you completely." Breaking the comfortable silence Andy referred to Miranda's earlier comment. "Except one tiny little detail. What gave you the impression that you had me?"

Seeing Miranda's crestfallen look, Andy regretted the teasing instantly.

"Sweetheart, you had me the moment I set foot into your office."

"I did?" Miranda jabbed Andy's chest accusatorily. "Don't you dare say it if you aren't serious."

Andy grabbed Miranda's hand, folded her fingers and held it against her chest.

"Ouch. What is it with you and poking? You have damn strong fingers lady." With her free hand she reached up and traced Miranda's upper lip. "I am serious."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. I brought out everything I had in the inventory and you masterfully navigated through all the roadblocks. I can't think of anything else to sabotage this. Us."

Miranda squeezed Andy's hand and nodded. Andy smiled and squeezed back in response. A silent affirmation passed between them. They made no sweeping declarations. Perhaps they were not ready to word those very present feelings both were achingly aware of. Or maybe, it was the knowledge that sometimes you don't have to say it out loud. Whatever it was, it was solid for now. After several seconds Andy clapped and said cheerfully.

"It's settled then. Now let me go. I have to pee."

She untangled herself from under Miranda and rose to her feet.

"Shit, shit. My leg is asleep. Ouch." Shaking her left leg vigorously, which refused to support her weight, she limped to the bathroom. A sharp bang came from the bathroom, followed by a muffled "Ouch. Shit." then a loud, "No worries. I'm good."

Miranda dropped back on the cushions and closed her eyes, her lips curling up involuntarily.

It couldn't have been any less romantic. Or any more perfect.