I make no money from this fanfic, please read and review. Thanks.
Miranda's POV
It started with the sneaking around.
Mid-afternoon meetings with persons unknown, whispered phone calls. It's during these times that I keep my eyes down cast casually flipping through The Book as Andrea's gaze would land on me before shifting to the far wall. She wordlessly dismisses herself from the room and from my presence.
I know the signs.
Next came the weight loss.
She has been avoiding me lately, hiding herself in Northwestern sweatsuits and NASA hoodies. Shielding her new body from me. I assumed the dropped pounds are for the new lover, someone younger, less problematic, with more time on their hands, more time for her. I lay awake at night wondering the identify of this other woman.
On one occasion, I hear Andrea ask for a Sharon from the other room during the first dinner we shared in weeks. I cringe. The girls' father cheated on me with a Sharon.
I chuckle at history repeating itself.
An issue with the internet service provider shut down Elias-Clark for the day and I left deciding to leave work at the office for a change. I wanted to spend time with Andrea. I nodded my thanks to Roy as I rushed up the front stairs.
I enter to find her quickly stuffing a letter in the back pocket of her jeans. I didn't question it but merely accepted the chaste kiss as she took my coat. She gave my elbow a firm squeeze and headed upstairs.
I couldn't help but stand in the foyer defeated.
I continued to the first-floor office a sad smile gracing my lips. She has finally come to her senses.
Normally, with the girls gone, I would have pursued my shoulders squared battle ready allowing the greatest weapon I possess, my double edge tongue, to deliver the emotional blows. But not with Andrea; I couldn't hurt my love as much pain as I was in from the distance and withdrawal of her affections, I wouldn't dare.
Andrea's POV
She's noticed.
She probably thinks I'm cheating. Giving my love and affection to someone else. I wouldn't dream of it; she is my dream. Miranda is everything I ever wanted my whole life. As I sit in front of Sharon tears threaten to fall as I think of her.
Sharon reaches across the glass desk and places her hands atop mine. I feel sick.
"I will try to make you as comfortable as possible. With the cancer near its final stages, you need to tell her. Miranda needs to know. You can't keep hiding. It's unfair and it's not healthy."
I close my eyes at this. I can't. I can't tell the woman who is surrounded by beauty and perfection each day that I am dying. I don't want to tell Miranda I lied, that I can't give her forever.
I stand abruptly, grabbing my laptop bag from the chair. I nod at Sharon before rushing out the room.
I need air.
I walked down Broadway, the wind drying and chilling the tears on my cheeks. It wasn't fair. This, she, and I were supposed to be the happy ending. It was the ending that Page 6 said we deserved, it was what everyone wanted for us at our wedding. A happy ending is what we promised each other.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk my hand pressed to my mouth as I stifled a scream. I wouldn't be able to hold up my end of the bargain.
Miranda's POV
I came home early again to find the townhouse empty. I thought I'd try to the surprise return home a second time. I cancelled three showings to be here, to be with her. Today is our fifth anniversary, my heart drops as I search the second floor, no Andrea. In the master bedroom, the sheets are unmade very un-Andrea like.
I let my mind wonder as I turn on the bedside lamp and begin to search the bed. Only thing I can think of in this moment are the photos of Stephen and the whore he had brought here.
I stop.
That's not Andrea and this isn't me. I refuse to be reduced to searching for hair and another woman's underwear. I promised myself, I wouldn't go there not again. I sit on the edge of the bed and think back to our wedding night. The night we promised honesty and I made a silent vow that I wouldn't let the insecurities of a middle aged twice divorced woman destroy us.
But again, I am Miranda Priestly, Dragon Lady, Ice Queen, it's difficult for me to trust.
I lean over and open the top drawer of the nightstand. I lift the false bottom and pull out the dog-eared business card. SONNY Services was in bold black ink across the front. I grab the phone. I am unsure why I pulled out his card as I dial the number from memory and lay it beside me as the phone rings.
"Sonny, private eye speaking." I can hear the crumpling of fast-food wrappers in the background, and I sneer.
"It's SnowWhite," I stutter out my code name and I can hear the sleezy grin forming on his wide chubby, greasy cheeks.
"What is it this time, a board member? Or is it trouble with the brunette?" His voice has a 'told ya so' quality about it that I don't like, and I consider hanging up the phone.
I disregard his remark and continue.
"I need information about a Sharon. I need you to follow Andrea and…" I trail off unsure of myself. What I need isn't here. She isn't here.
More crumpling, this time paper.
"Alright, the usual? Photos? Credit card receipts? In case things get nasty in the divorce. Like the last one?"
I know he is referring to Stephen and I respond without thinking.
"There will be no divorce. Not this time." I growl into the phone. My bark worse than my bite.
"Wow," he chuckles into the receiver, "well, if you want her dead, I got two guys…"
"What!" I scream, I wouldn't dream, "no you moron, I don't want her dead. I want to know who this Sharon woman is, find out. The money will be in your account by the end of the day."
He laughs again, "sweet talker. I'll get to it."
The line goes dead, and I am angry I didn't hang up first.
Andrea's POV
On the subway, I finger the Cartier box in the bottom of my bag. This could be the last gift I give her, and I am almost ashamed I didn't go bigger. She deserves it and so much more.
I think back to Sharon's words from two days ago. I need to tell her, but I can't bring myself to utter the words. I haven't fully accepted the outcome yet. I fall back into the seat and laugh as I become truly aware of my surroundings, if Miranda knew I took the subway in Prada she would kill me before the cancer.
Miranda's POV
I sit in the back of the town car; Roy in the driver's seat keeps looking at me every few minutes in the rearview mirror.
We are waiting for Sonny, the sleaze bag is three minutes late and my stomach folds itself into another knot.
A hard tap on the window catches me by surprise and before I can respond the burly man is next to me. The stench of grease nearly overwhelms me, and I crack the window. I stare at the back of the seat as he pulls out the large manilla envelope, I know what comes next.
He sighs, and I turn staring at him. Is that…sadness? I furrow my brow in confusion and remove my shades. He looks at the papers, I can tell he's shaking.
"By all means move at a glacial pace, I have nowhere else to be." I roll my eyes and turn to the window.
"This mysterious Sharon, is Dr. Sharon Ross, she's the top Oncologist on the East Coast."
I smirk, "so Andrea's seeing a doctor, hmm, no one has ever cheated on me with a doctor before." I spit it out and my mind races and, in this moment, I hate her. I hate her for betraying me, us.
"No, Miranda," I can feel the weight of his short meaty hand on my shoulder, and I whip around ready to eviscerate him, but his next words stop the insult from rolling off my lips, "cancer. Andrea has cancer. Late stage and…" he gives my shoulder a light squeeze before shuffling through the papers.
"They've tried everything. Infusions, a brief round of radiation, chemo, and some other shit I can't pronounce, but…" he trailed off and I snatch the papers from his hands.
"You say this Dr. Ross is the best, the top in her field, right? Everything will be fine, Andrea will get better?" I look up at him and he shakes his head in the negative.
"They stopped all forms of treatment three weeks ago. You got a fighter, but…she won't make it back not from this." He turns his lips down and reaches for my shoulder again. I swat his hand away.
"Get out," I hiss voice low and deadly. Roy is already making a move to open the door and if needed snatch the offensive man from the back seat. Sonny nods at me before awkwardly getting out of the car.
"Miranda," Roy begins but I immediately raise my hand stopping him. I need silence as I try to process what I heard. It can't be true but the blood work, the medical charts confirm that I am lying to myself.
I hold the papers relieved my Andrea hasn't strayed and I can rest assured that I am enough. I chide myself for being overjoyed in the revelation that she wasn't cheating but rather dying. If I could change the outcome I would without a moment's hesitation. I would rather Andrea have bedded 100 others than to know in the next few months that I will be without her forever.
"Roy, take me home please." I began to sob.
I wait on the bottom of the staircase staring down at my bare feet. I can't recall where or when I removed my shoes. I am not sure how I came to be here now. My hands are shaking I am trying to be strong. I want to be strong for her.
I hear the key in the lock of the outer door and finally the chime of the alarm system. She stops and looks at me. Her shoulders drop as a small smile graces her lips.
There is silence between us but in our gaze so much is said. My cheeks are wet, and I rush to her wrapping her thin body in my arms.
She stiffens before collapsing against me her body shaking with silent tears. I pepper her with kisses and whisper everything will be alright, but she simply raises her head and looks at me.
"No, it won't Miranda."
I swallow hard, now it was my turn to breakdown. I have endured a lot but this I wasn't sure how I would survive. There was no PR firm, no attorney I could call to spin this in my favor.
That night we made love and I ran my hands over her body. My tongue was everywhere; I was greedy and needy. I wanted to remember every inch of her. Her breath hitches as I place butterfly kisses over the marks and radiation burns that have marred her flesh.
"Beautiful." I whisper against her stomach, and she sobs.
"My love I am so sorry, I wasn't there. I'm so sorry." I sound like a broken record but in my actions, I try to convey my sorrow.
I should've seen this. I should have seen her pain but Runway. It has encompassed me for so long that I have forgotten what's important. I watch her long after she has fallen asleep my fingers ghosting over her skin. We only have six months, a year if we are lucky. A plan forms and I know what I must do.
I'm in the office earlier than usual catching my newest second assistant off guard. I watch over the rim of the laptop as she nearly drops my latte. After a bit of fumbling, she brings it in quietly and carefully places it on the cozy. She turns quickly on her heels.
"Mave?"
"Yes, Miranda?" she turns and looks to the notepad on the corner of my desk clearly wanting to put my orders to paper. But today I only have one simple ask and hand her the envelop that contains my resignation.
"Give this to Irv. That's all." She nods and hurries away and I sit waiting for the call that will come.
It didn't take long and two hours later I was summoned to Irv's office.
"Have a seat, Miranda."
He slides the letter across the table.
"Explain." He leans back in his chair, and I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.
"Well, Irv, there is nothing to explain. I am stepping down. Frankly, I thought you'd send a security detail to escort me out of the building." I cross my legs and look at him. It's silent for a while and he leans forward placing both hands on the desk.
"Why? Runway is your…," he gestured around the room, "life. It's everything to you. You've been at the helm for over twenty years. Honestly, I thought you'd die at your desk. Not now, of course, but in old age."
I didn't take offense. The statement was true, I had always thought I'd die in the office and yes Runway is my life or at least it used to be. Not now, not anymore.
Now it was my turn to be honest.
"Andrea is dying. Cancer. I…" my voice breaks and I clear my throat before continuing.
"I…don't want to be here when she…I want to spend every moment I can with her. She didn't tell me she was sick. But then again, I didn't see the signs; I was so caught it in this, Runway, that I didn't notice." I chuckle, "I thought she was cheating. Who could blame her if she had?"
His expression softens and he comes around the desk to sit in the empty chair next to me.
Tears are rolling down my cheeks now and I look over at him. I expect to find a haughty expression at seeing the Snow Queen melt, but his features are soft his eyes expressing sympathy.
I must look away I am taken aback by my honesty and vulnerability.
He reaches and grabs my hand squeezing it.
"When Melanie died twenty years ago, I had many regrets. Like your Andrea, she didn't tell me she was ill, stage four breast cancer. It had spread to her bones and when she was in pain she would stay away, sleep in the spare bedroom. I had just taken over the board, so I was never home. And when I was, I was on conference calls. I guess she didn't want to burden me. But whatever her reasons, I'll never know. Point blank Miranda, I was too busy to notice."
Irv whispered the last part and he looked down at his shoes. Although he had shown a moment of vulnerability, he wouldn't let the tears in his eyes fall. His pride wouldn't allow it.
He looked solemn and it was my turn to give comfort. I gave his hand a firm squeeze.
"Be with her as much as you can. Some of us would kill for another chance to be there." He released my hand and stood.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts, take as long as you need." He headed for the door.
"Thank you."
He turned giving me a slight nod before leaving.
I stayed for another thirty minutes before I went to the private bathroom and touched up my make up as best I could. I departed with a lightness in my step. I left the building at lunch heading to the townhouse and back to Andrea. Although we had talked much that night there was still much to discuss, and most importantly, we needed to tell the girls.
18 Months Later
Andrea had been strong giving it everything she had even surprising herself when she hit the 10-month mark, but shortly thereafter her body surrendered, and she succumb to the disease only two weeks after the milestone.
I have never cried so hard.
It's been eight months and although I feel like I should move on I can't. Andrea had spoken at length about me restarting again, loving another. But move on to what? To whom? There was no one; only her. I look around the townhouse one last time. It didn't feel right staying here. When asked about my reason to sell I gave them rehearsed nonsense about healing and new business endeavors. Truthfully, I didn't want to be alone.
With my girls in college, there was no one left, and alone, those memories of Andrea and I slam into me. The grief crashes down like waves and I fear one night weakened by guilt and bourbon, I'll let them drown me. Just like I almost did before.
I am terrified to admit only weeks following the funeral I consumed a bottle whiskey and stared over photos of us; I considered pulling out the pearl handle .380 I kept in the closet; the next day I had my housekeeper Elena remove it from the townhouse.
I didn't trust myself.
Now, I am here. A mentor to contestants on Project Runway. I needed to keep busy, occupy my time with more than her and what should have been.
My mind drifts as I sit in the back of the town car and Didn't We Almost Have It All by Whitney Houston plays. I let out a sigh and close my eyes.
"Yes, Andrea, we almost had it all."