18.
"Miranda?" Andy sat up and blindly reached for the switch. Her sight adjusted easily to the small Tiffany lamp's hollow light and she starred worriedly at the petit figure standing in the middle of the room.
"Did I wake you?" asked Miranda, "I am sorry." She said flashing an apologetic half smile.
"It's not…" Andy suppressed a yawn and glanced at the clock on the wall. Three o'clock. "Is everything all right?"
"I couldn't sleep any longer. All these thoughts running around in my head, they just don't let me settle. Usually it helps if I read something and I was thinking that your delightful book would be a nice distraction, but I can't seem to find it. I might have left it in your apartment." She lifted the MacBook she was holding and grimaced. "So I opted on doing some work."
Miranda climbed back into the bed and snuggled under the blanket. Turning to Andy she confessed.
"I work a lot. Work often came first and it affected my marriage, and my relationship with my daughters. I sacrificed many things to get to where I am today. Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it. To some degree, yes it was, but what I won't let happen again, is losing someone I care for, over my job."
"I work a lot too, Miranda. I have odd hours just like you have. I have busy seasons when I literally live in my kitchen. I'm sure we can find a healthy balance and make it work. Unless you want to have serious conversations at three o'clock in the morning regularly. Then, no. It's not going to work."
"Didn't you just mention you do odd hours?" chuckled Miranda. "This is not any different."
"I'm on holiday lady. The regular rules do not apply." pouted Andy. Laying back she pulled the blanket over her head signaling that the early morning conversation was over.
"Youngsters." huffed Miranda. "They have no stamina, whatsoever." She booted up the Mac and lost herself in work. Emily's message was alarming. Miranda's first reaction was to return New York immediately and face Edna Martin the following day. She decided against it, but it didn't mean she wasn't working on the solution. She didn't feel threatened in the least, she was pissed. Royally pissed. Something was off, the turn of events didn't make sense. Then again, #notmakingsense, had been trending in her life for the last few days.
"Miranda?" the muffled question came from under the blanket a couple minutes later.
'Hmmm?" Miranda hummed, not looking up from her computer.
"You really think, that my book is delightful?"
"I did say that, didn't I?" answered Miranda, her focus still on the screen in front of her.
"Yes, you did."
Andy kicked the blanket off and with one swift motion she was up, kneeling in front of Miranda, between the older woman's outstretched legs. Miranda looked up and gasped. Due to a missing button, Andy's shirt slid open revealing more than anyone should, unless they had ulterior motives of seduction, or it was July in Arizona with no air conditioning.
Miranda blinked hard and tried to redirect her attention, with little success. Andy seemed oblivious to the effect her rebellious shirt had on Miranda. She leaned forward, balancing herself on Miranda's thighs she showed off more bare skin and well…boobs.
"As my girlfriend, you're supposed to say nice things to me." Andy said.
Miranda tore her eyes away from the tantalizing sight and set aside her Mac. Get a grip woman she scolded herself silently. You act like a sex deprived moron.
Taking Andy's hand, Miranda pulled and turned her, until she sat between her thighs, and hugged the younger woman from behind. Andy relaxed against her and Miranda inhaled deeply, her nostrils filled with the scent of sugar and spice. Yes, her girlfriend looked delicious, smelled delicious and most likely tasted delicious too. But it wasn't the right time to find it out. Even though Andy seemed pleased by Miranda's compliment there was something in her eyes, something that told a different story.
"As your girlfriend I'm telling you that your book is delightful. And as an editor I'd say that your book is exceptional. Very well written, fresh, entertaining. A potential best-seller."
"This book is the result of months of traveling all over the States. Countless hours of writing and editing. I am proud of it and yes, I know that it's good work. But it's not going to be a best seller." stated Andy matter-of-factly. "The day we met, I was at Elias Clark because my publisher, or I should say, ex-publisher, resides there."
"Ex-publisher?" Miranda frowned. Her internal alarm went off and her protective mode took a starting stance. On your mark.
"They terminated my contract, without explanation. My book never hit the shelves of any bookstore."
Miranda narrowed her eyes, but remained silent. She suspected there was more to this story. Get set.
"Working on this book was my therapy. Celebrating life through these recipes. Behind every recipe there is a little bit of history. Stories of love, loss, struggles, happiness and many more." Andy continued, her voice painfully emotionless.
"I wasn't just collecting recipes, Miranda. I made a documentary of the people who made this country great, diverse, colorful. Johanna, the forever young Dutch woman, who arrived here during World War II, with nothing but her great grandmother's Stroopwaffles recipe. She built an empire out of it. Or the Hungarian Ferenc, who flew from his country in 1956. He faced prison and most likely a death sentence for participating in the revolution. He was shot from behind, at the border, but the recipe collection he was carrying in his backpack saved his life. He made it here, opened his bakery in New Jersey and at the age 80, he is still making the best apple strudel you've ever tasted. These people in my book are unique. Their stories are special. Every single recipe they shared with me deserves recognition. I've wanted to show everyone, that you don't need a passport to travel the world. You can find the world right here."
Andy shrugged nonchalantly.
"Guess it wasn't in my cards to become a bestselling author. Or if it was, someone had another idea and they were powerful enough to pull it off. "
Andy didn't have to explain. Miranda knew exactly who she was talking about. The dragon awakened. A plan was already forming, taking shape in her head. Go.
Half an hour or more passed in silence. Miranda, for perhaps the first time in her life, didn't know how to proceed. She had a plan or more like a draft of it and she refused to make promises until it wasn't a promise but a fact. Andrea deserved a solution and Miranda was going to give her one, no matter the cost.
Andy retreated into her shell, as she regretted her vent. Technically, it might not have been a vent, as it lacked the expression of strong emotions. In order to keep her sanity and advance her life's quality she had to get over her disappointment. She was tired of carrying the heavy burden of sorrow. She just couldn't afford to dispirit every time Ed did something. There was one thing she would never let happen though. She would not allow Ed to cause any damage to Miranda. No matter the cost.
Untangling herself from the warm embrace, Andy turned and faced Miranda.
"What you said earlier, about the unfortunate events at Runway. You really meant that Ed did something right?"
Miranda pondered if she should deny the obvious. She could lie. Dismiss the question with one of her infamous "are you an idiot" looks or just purse her lips. But no, she didn't want to do that. Not to Andrea. Ever.
"You don't have to say anything." Andy said, when she didn't get an immediate response. "I have no doubts. I just hope that…" her voice faltered.
Miranda hugged Andy, holding her tight against her chest, pouring all her unspoken feelings into one nonverbal gesture. Releasing Andy she leaned back, holding the younger woman at arm's length, so she could hold her gaze.
"Listen carefully. We are building something here. Something precious. Nothing, and I mean nothing your sister does or did can change that."
These were the words, Andy wished to hear. Whether Miranda really meant it or she was just someone who always said the right thing, Andy couldn't be sure. For now, what she was told satisfied her, time would resolve the rest.
"I'd feel better if we headed back to New York. You should be there and see for yourself what's going on."
Andy sounded confident and by the expression on Miranda's face she had said the right thing too.
Strategically, Miranda had to agree, returning to New York was the best they could do at that point.
Would that mean, however, that they had to depart already? That, on the other hand, was not acceptable.
"Will you come with me? To my house? And stay? I'm not proposing that you to move in with me." Miranda paused "Or perhaps I am. Just say yes for now. Come home with me. Please?"
Miranda couldn't recognize herself. Since when did Miranda Priestly beg, anyone?
"You sound like a desperate, clingy, love-struck, middle-aged woman." Miranda's inner voice was nothing but brutally honest. Except it wasn't her inner voice.
"You are not. You are sweet and caring. Amazing." Andy cradled Miranda's face in her palms and nodded agreeably. "And I am coming home with you."