We enter the kitchen, and I sit at the table, wondering how to proceed with what I know must happen next. I am nervous. I have never had these kinds of discussions with someone before and I am unsure what to expect.

What if we talk and she decides that I am not the woman that she needs me to be, and walks away? Of course, Andrea notices my discomfort and comes to sit next to me.

"There is nothing to worry about, Miranda. Nothing that we discuss tonight could ever change my mind about you, ok?" She reaches for my hand, and takes it into her own, lifting it to her lips and kissing my knuckles.

I release a breath that I didn't know I was holding and I feel the tension leave me as the truth of her words settle within me.

"This is new to me," I tell her, "this communication. This level of honesty and forthrightness is not something I have had with another person before."

"How about we pour a glass of wine, and go and cuddle up on the sofa?"

"Perfect," I answer, standing up, and walking over to the cupboard with the glasses in it. She passes me the half full bottle that we started yesterday, and I pour us both a medium-sized glass. We walk into the living room and sit side by side on the sofa and for the first time in my life I find myself at a loss for words. Luckily Andrea picks up on my inability to talk and takes pity on me.

"There isn't anything to worry about, sweetheart, we're just talking."

"I know, but I am not sure where to start, and I'm not sure what I even need or want out of a relationship," I embarrassingly confess. I have always just taken what was offered to me, and accepted that this is the way things are. Never once has it occurred to me that I could ask for the things I might need in a relationship.

"Well, the way I see it, there are several things that may or may not be a concern, and I'd like to address them. Shall I go first?" She waits for my nod and then begins to speak again.

"Firstly, and at the top of my list, is the girls. I don't ever want anything that we do to cause them any confusion or hurt, either now or in the future."

Of all the things that I expected her to mention, this wasn't it. The fact that her first thought is for my girls, makes my love for her grow even more. I wonder if I will ever get to a point where I stop loving her more and more? Is there a saturation point I will eventually reach where my love will be the most it can be? I somehow don't believe I will ever reach that point.

"They love you, Andrea. They couldn't be happier that you will be in their life more now," I try to reassure her.

She gives me a dopey grin full of her love for them, "I know, but that wasn't what I meant. If we are going to be in a relationship, then I will be spending more time with them. I'm in this for the long haul, but I need to know that if we broke up for any reason, that I would still be able to see them? I couldn't just walk out of their lives. It wouldn't be fair on them."

"I promise you, that if we did decide that we were not compatible then I would not stop you seeing them," I tell her, as my heart feels a pang of pain at the mere thought of not having her in my life.

I can see the relief that washes over her face, and I realise that this must have been a big concern for her.

Andrea scoots closer, and puts her arm around me, pulling me into her side, and I rest my head on her shoulder just enjoying the feel of her arm around me.

"What else did you want to talk about?" I ask, still unsure of what my contribution will be to this conversation.

Andrea looks serious then and I brace myself. A nervous expression flits across her face and is gone again, so quickly that I am not sure if I have imagined it.

She pulls me just a little tighter against her and I melt into her side as she begins to talk. "Communication. I believe that almost any issue can be solved by talking it through. If you need space? Don't push me away. There isn't any need, you know? If you want space then tell me, even if you don't want to tell me why. I will happily give you time when you need it, but I don't want to be pushed away."

I feel myself blush slightly because I know that I am guilty of this. I do push people away, and I know I can be very unpleasant when I am backed into a corner. Not once throughout any of my previous relationships has it occurred to me that I can just ask if I need some time on my own.

Her request has made me nervous though because some habits are so deeply ingrained, that I know I will have difficulty in changing my approach to things. I decide I need to reward her honesty with some of my own.

"I will try, Andrea, but I already know that this one will be difficult for me. Sometimes I don't understand that what I am craving is space. I don't realise until I have gone on the offensive and hurt the people around me enough that they have left me alone. I am willing to try. I would be willing to try anything for you."

"That's all I ask," she tells me with a smile.

We sit in silence, and we are both deep in thought.

"Don't cheat on me," I blurt out, "if you ever find yourself falling for someone else, then tell me and hard though it would be I would let you go. Please don't flaunt a new lover in my face whilst we are still together."

I can see that I have shocked her, and then I realise that details of the infidelity of both my husbands had been kept out of the press because of my pride. It would have been the perfect countermeasure to the disgusting half-truths that were written about me in the paper, but I couldn't face the world knowing that they had gone seeking pleasure elsewhere. It always felt like I wasn't enough of a woman to keep them satisfied, and I took it as a personal failure.

Now I know the truth about myself, I can see that perhaps I would never have been enough for them. I didn't want to please them in the ways that I do so easily with Andrea.

My pride had meant that I was held responsible by the media for the breakdown of my marriages, but that was better than the alternative.

"Both of my husbands had affairs," I confess, as she pulls her arm tighter around me, "my first husband had an affair with a much younger woman for nearly two years before he left me, and by the end, he wasn't even bothering to attempt to hide it. Stephen flaunted a whole string of mistresses in my face, knowing that I was reluctant to end the marriage for the sake of Caroline and Cassidy."

"I'm so sorry they did that to you," she murmurs, kissing my hair, and stroking my cheek with the back of her fingers, "I will never abuse your trust like that, I promise. I have always been honest in my relationships and I would never do that to you."

I hear her words and I find myself believing her. I don't think for one second that she would ever hurt me in that way, but I admit that it is a concern that one day she will find someone younger and more suitable for her.

I think back to my conversation with Gayle though, and I realise that she is a witness to Andrea's nature. The woman had told me that Andrea had been upfront about her feelings for me, and she had never once misled her. I trust Andrea absolutely, but even if I didn't, then Gayle's words would have put any doubts to bed.

"So, open communication, and my reassurance that I wouldn't stop you from seeing the girls if something were to change in our relationship?" I check, looking for confirmation from her.

"Yes. I also owe you a massive apology," she looks away then, and I can see that she feels embarrassed, though I am unsure of what she is about to apologise for.

"Whatever for, darling?"

"I know that I reacted badly to you when we discussed our finances and the future. I'm sorry for that. I wanted so much to tell you the truth of who I was, and why I felt the way I do about those paintings that you love so much, but I couldn't. Your words, however kindly intended, struck a nerve. I am so sorry."

As she speaks, I can see her eyes welling with tears, and I move to sit on her lap, facing her with my knees on either side of her thighs. This position, so new to me, was nothing but sexual the last time that I sat like this on her lap, but this time it is about comfort for both of us.

"I can understand why you felt that way," I tell her, guiding her face with my hand to make sure she is looking me in the eye, "I wanted nothing but to help you think about the future, and without the knowledge that I have now, I was worried about your financial situation. However, I do admit I can be overbearing sometimes and it wasn't for me to push you the way I did. I didn't care that you had less than me, I just wanted the best for you, and I am sorry that I overstepped. I feel that we are both to blame for the small disagreements that we have had."

She leans forwards slightly then and wraps her arms around me, holding me tightly against her, as she takes a deep breath and sighs.

"I wanted to tell you so many times, but I thought if you knew that you would make me quit my job. I didn't think I could tell you that I only stayed, to be close to you. I couldn't imagine my life, or even my working day, without you in it."

"We have both been fools. If only we had been braver, we could have saved each other so much heartbreak." I rest my head in the crook of her neck, and it is so automatic now to do so. How have I lived my life for so long without this simple comfort?

"Everything will be ok now," she reassures me, a hand running soothingly down my spine and back up again, "no more secrets, ok?"

"Ok," I agree readily because really, that sounds wonderful to me.

We are silent again, and I revel in the fact that silence has never been so comfortable before. The act of being quiet together is something I have quickly learned is one of my favourite things about being in her presence.

She doesn't need me to entertain her, and she is not waiting on me to make small talk with her, which I cannot stand at the best of times. Being able to be quiet in her presence is one of the greatest gifts she could ever give me.

"What will you do now?"

I almost jump because I am so deeply relaxed in her embrace. It's a really good question, and one that I haven't allowed myself to think much of since the events of Paris. However, there has been something niggling at the back of my mind since we arrived here.

I sit back a little, perched on her knees so I can see her eyes. I hear myself begin to talk as an idea takes form and becomes a reality that I had not allowed myself to indulge in before.

"I think I want to design clothes," I reveal, and I am gratified to see her smile, "I have the images in my head, and I know what I want them to look like, but I struggle with the artistic side of things." I cringe then because I am unused to admitting that I have a weakness. I have always had difficulty being anything less than perfect.

"Maybe I could help you?" she offers sweetly, with a broad smile. Visions of us working side by side bringing my ideas to life flit through my imagination.

"That would be wonderful."

"You are an incredible wordsmith, Miranda. I'm sure that you can vocalise exactly what you want, and I can help you put your ideas onto paper in a form that we could use to get your designs made."

I smile back at her then and decide that I want to trust her and start to share the ideas that have been going through my mind for the last few years.

"The world is changing, and fashion needs to reflect that. It needs to reflect real life," I inform her, trying to gather my thoughts, "I want to design clothes that everyday people can wear. Clothes that make people feel special when they wear them. Clothes for people that aren't necessarily a size two. I want to create clothes that people who identify as non-binary are comfortable wearing. Trans men should have access to fashionable clothing that allows for things like chest bindings, and trans women should have underwear that is comfortable for them, without the need to tuck. They should wear articles that make them feel sexy, empowered and at ease in their bodies."

Andrea looks at me then and I wonder what is going through her mind, but I am disturbed to see a tear rolling down her cheek.

I continue, because now I have started, I need her to understand just how important this is for me.

"I have seen far too many people passed over and left by the wayside because they don't fit into some archaic societal 'norm'. I don't want my children to grow up in a world where they are afraid to express themselves. They should have the option to be whoever they want to be, and have the choice of clothing that helps them reflect who they really are."

"That's so beautiful, Miranda. I desperately want to be involved in this project, if you'll have me?"

"I would love nothing more than to start this journey with you." I am sincere with my words, but what I am not telling her, is that I feel unable to do this without her. She gives me strength in ways that she doesn't even realise and I feel like I can take on the world when I am with her.

"I'm in this with you. I know this is probably too soon for this kind of declaration, but I want you to know that for me? You're the one. I want to build a life with you. It's not just about us. I want to be a family with you and the girls, and I want to grow old with you."

It is soon, but she has stolen the words from out of my mouth. I know that I want this woman in my life and I can't even think of a time that I won't want her by my side. Andrea is so much braver than I ever gave her credit for, and I find myself staring at her, slightly awed by the way she so confidently informs me of her feelings about the future.

"I want that too, Andrea. We will have a wonderful life together," I tell her with a sigh as I drop forwards back to my favourite place in the crook of her neck.

"So, we're going to do this? I never have to work again if I don't want to. I have more than enough money to see me through seven lifetimes," she tells me, with a bashful smile, "but I want to do something important with my life. I used to think I wanted to be a journalist, but now I see that that isn't the path for me."

I'm intrigued now because I wasn't aware that her ideas had changed so much in terms of what she felt was her calling in life.

"What made you change your mind? I thought being a journalist was your dream?" I have to know because I can sense that there is a deeper meaning to her words even if she hasn't shared them with me.

She grips my shoulders then pushes me back so that she can look in my eyes, and cups my face with both of her hands.

"How could I still want to be a journalist when I have witnessed first-hand the devastation caused by the sensationalist stories that they choose to see as news? You have done nothing wrong and yet you have been vilified by the press. They don't see how truly amazing you are, Miranda. I don't ever want to work for an industry that could ever paint you as something other than the miraculous woman that you are."

Her confession leaves me breathless, and more than a little overwhelmed by the force of her love. She loves me. She loves me so much that she is willing to turn her back on her childhood dream out of a sense of loyalty to me. It's incredibly flattering but I want her to be sure of her decision because it will have far-reaching consequences.

"Are you sure? You don't owe me, my darling. You are not the person or people responsible for the reporting of my life and my divorces. If that is still your dream then you should follow your heart."

She leans forwards then and captures my lips in a searing kiss. I meet her passion with my own and press myself closer to her.

She pulls back, and her eyes meet mine, "it's not my dream anymore. I have so much more in my life that I want to pursue, and so much that I can do that doesn't involve being a journalist. I want to change the narrative, not from the point of view of a journalist but by being a woman that is worth taking note of. We have two children who look to us to be the best role models for them growing up that we can be. That is more important to me than a dream I had, once upon a time."

She has referred to the girls as ours, and if anyone else had done that then I would have been furious. How dare they claim my children as theirs? However, when Andrea does it, I feel my heart melt a little bit more at the thought that she wants to be the best that she can be for them. For me. For us as a family.

She loves them and I suspect that even though she is not connected to them by blood, she loves them more than their father ever did, and probably nearly as much as I do. I find that I don't mind, and instead, I am grateful to know that they have such an incredible woman in their life, who will look out for them and be there for them. I know without discussing it, that this would be the case if something happened to me.

It's been a worry of mine over the last few years. I know that I am reaching an age where health problems start becoming a reality and their father cannot be relied upon. It is a comforting thought to realise just how much she loves them, and I know that she will be there for them in my absence, should there ever be a requirement for it.

"I love you, darling," I whisper, as my emotions get the better of me and I realise I am crying.

Tender fingers come up to wipe the tears from my face and then insistent hands pull me close.

"Swing your legs round, my love," she requests, and I do so that I am sitting sideways on her lap, as she settles us into the corner of the sofa. My face finds its home buried into the side of her neck, and she cradles me with delicate but strong arms and just lets me cry.

She seems to understand without asking that I am overwhelmed with the strength of my emotions but that they are positive. She murmurs comforting things in my ear and I realise she is rocking us both gently. The sway of being in her arms, as I'm nestled on her lap makes me feel safer than I have ever felt in my life.

I don't recognise myself at that moment. Who am I? I have never been like this with another partner before, and I know I should be terrified. Her quiet, steadfast love keeps me from drowning though, and I feel myself relax as my tears dry up.

"I love you, baby," she whispers, and my face is hot again at the endearment that she has chosen. I am 51 years old but I have never been someone's baby before. I feel like I should object to the name that she has bestowed on me but I find that I quite like it. I would have eviscerated someone previously, if they had referred to me by such a juvenile term, but from her it sounds right. I want to be her baby.

I want to be hers.