Andrea closed her eyes and nodded. "Actually, first, can I go grab the heating pad?"

"I'll get it. Do you need any medication?"

"I think another ibuprofen—the doctor gave me a prescription for the 800 mg tablets," Andrea said.

"Would you like tea or anything else?"

"No, water is fine. Thank you," she said as Miranda headed into the bathroom to retrieve the heating pad.

Once she was settled, Miranda sat indian-style on the bed next to her. "The beginning, Andrea," she said.

Andrea could tell she was upset, but seeing that pain behind her eyes was too much. "Can you turn around or something? I can't look at you."

Miranda opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it and laid next to the young woman, resting her head on her shoulder. "Is this okay?"

Andrea reached down and squeezed her hand as she took a deep breath. "I got my period when I was nine years old—the girls' age. By senior year of high school, it was too painful to wear a tampon. No one believed me, and I just thought all the other girls were putting up with it. My mom finally let me go to see a gynecologist, and right away she knew I had fibroids. It's rare in young women, but possible. I later came to find out that my mother and aunts and grandmother all had fibroids, too. You can imagine how upset I was that my mother didn't recognize my symptoms," she said. "Oh, but that's not what you want to hear. Right. Um, so yeah. I had surgery right after I graduated from high school. They were growing on the interior wall of my uterus, and they basically did a dilation and curettage, then cauterized. It wasn't until a few years ago, when I went to a different doctor, that I was told I would never be able to have children due to the scarring from my previous surgery."

Miranda turned towards Andrea and gently draped her arm across her stomach.

"So, um, yeah. I could have sued the doctors and hospital for not informing me or whatever, but I didn't want the money. It wouldn't change things. The fibroids basically couldn't grow on the inside of my uterus anymore, so they started growing within the wall, and on the outside. My doctor gave me some medication to shrink them, and that helped for a while, then I moved to New York. I was feeling okay, so I didn't bother seeing another doctor. Then, a few months ago, I started getting headaches with my period, and I was bleeding a lot more than I usually do. I tried to put it off, but I knew I needed to make an appointment. This time, she was able to do a laparoscopic myomectomy, so she just made a few tiny incisions and cut them up, then sucked it out in small pieces. So, yeah."

"When are you going to get to the part about not telling me?" Miranda asked calmly.

"Like I said, it wasn't a big deal, and I really didn't want to talk about it, but then it sort of snowballed, and I thought it was too late. I thought you'd be upset with me. I thought you wouldn't want to be bothered with this. Look, I'm fine. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal, Andrea. Not only is it an ongoing health issue that you'll face for your entire life, but you had surgery. If you can't share something like that…but you expect me to trust you with my daughters…"

"Your daughters. I guess I've already ruined it."

"No, our daughters—our. Andrea, I'm sorry, that was not intentional."

"Right."

"Andrea, I am not apologizing again. You're the one who lied to us."

"Miranda, I'm sorry. What more do you want from me?"

"Trust?"

"I do trust you—completely. I just don't understand why I have to tell you every single thing. Can't I just keep something to myself? Something personal? Something that, I don't know, you can't use against me."

"What? What did you just say?" Miranda hissed, sitting up. "Use against you? Clearly I was under the misguided illusion that we loved each other, but according to you, it sounds more like we're enemies."

"I didn't mean it like that!" she said, raising her voice. "So, you mean, you've never kept anything from me?"

"Not intentionally. There's plenty I haven't told you, mostly because you haven't asked. And of course, I don't always tell you the whole story, but I'm just redacting out the boring parts. If you showed any interest whatsoever, I would tell you."

"I find that hard to believe," Andrea said, rolling her eyes.

"So you really think I've been keeping things from you? Jesus, Andrea. Two months ago I started taking mood stabilizers, and I told you before I even had the pharmacy fill the prescription. You've seen me at my most vulnerable—and you know there is no argument in that—and yet, you still think I'm keeping secrets?"

"I knew I couldn't talk to you about this."

"Oh, wait wait wait. Now this is about you feeling like you can't talk to me? Have I ever—since we started seeing each other outside of work—said that I didn't have time for you? Tell you I didn't care about whatever it was you were saying? Judge you for your feelings? No. No, I haven't," Miranda said, shaking her finger. "I have done everything in my power to show you that I care about you. That I don't look down on you. That each and every day I am grateful to have you in my life and in the lives of my daughters." She shook her head and looked away for a moment. "If you don't want this…with me…you could…no one's forcing you to stay."

"Miranda, no. Where are you getting that? I do want this life with you. I just, I was afraid."

"Of what?"

Andrea shrugged. "That you wouldn't want to put up with me. You know, if I have problems like this," she said as she gestured towards her lower abdomen. "I'm imperfect."

A sharp cry interrupted their conversation, and the women noticed Cate standing up in her crib on the monitor.

"I'll be right back," Miranda said.

On the monitor, Andrea watched her pick up Cate and gently try to soothe Callie back to sleep. A few minutes later, she returned to the bedroom and climbed up onto the bed, cradling a sleepy-eyed Catherine against her chest.

"What did I say or do to make you think I wouldn't want to 'put up with you,' as you say?" Miranda asked. "And how do you know I don't already think you're perfect?"

Andrea shrugged and shook her head. "It's just me being insecure, forget it."

Miranda's eyes widened and she turned to the young woman. "Why this all of a sudden? Is it the press—did someone say something to you?"

"No, forget about it. It's fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have overreacted. I shouldn't have brought up secrets or anything. Can we just forget about it?"

"How can I forget that you had surgery without telling me? That you arranged to stay the night somewhere else so that you could hide from me? What's next? Will you be taking another lover and keep that from me, too? Because you just want something that you can keep to yourself?"

"I could never—there is no one else. There will never be anyone else. Miranda, please don't do this. Just let it go."

"Tell me why you're feeling insecure."

Andrea was silent.

"Andrea, if you're going to continue to keep things from me, this is as good as over. I've played that game many times before, and honestly, I'm too old for that. I don't have time for the hesitation, the teasing, the jealousy. I would like to think I've outgrown that, and I thought you were someone who could meet me in the middle here. I want a partner to share the rest of my life with, someone I can grow old with, someone to watch our daughters grow up with. Are you or are you not that person?"

The young woman began to cry as she shook her head. "I'm not good enough. I was stupid to think I could make you happy," she said as she took the diamond engagement ring from her finger and placed it on the nightstand.

Miranda gasped and immediately realized she took it a step too far—she practically issued Andrea an ultimatum, and that was not her intent. She set Cate down on the bed and turned over, wrapping her arms around the young woman. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm a fool—please, don't do this to me. You do make me happy, Andrea, you must know that. You are that person I see myself spending the rest of my life with. I'm the one who doesn't deserve you, darling. Please take it back."

Cate tried to crawl over Miranda, reaching out for Andrea. "Mama," she said.

"Darling, please," Miranda pleaded, kissing her on the cheek and ignoring the infant altogether.

Andrea took a deep breath and grasped one of Cate's tiny hands. "I ran into Stephen last week at Starbucks in Manhattan. I don't think he knew who I was until I gave the barista my name. He had some awful things to say, and I hate it, but he made me doubt some things."

"Did he harass you? Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. He has no right to treat you like that. Why didn't you tell me?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "What, so your lawyer could call his lawyer? I don't need you to fight my battles. I would have told you, but I figured you would just be too upset, and then I hadn't decided whether I believed him or not."

"Are you going to tell me what he said?"

"He basically said that no one would ever be good enough for you. He insinuated that you're treating me now the same exact way you treated him just before you got married. He said that you surround yourself with people who are indebted to you to maintain the illusion of loyalty—that you know, deep down, just how insufferable you are and that you're terrified of being alone. And then he told me you could replace me in the blink of an eye. He said, 'Don't even think about telling me that Miranda would never cheat on you, because there are two nine-month-olds as proof she's done it before.'" Andrea brought her hands up to cover her face. "I don't want to believe him. I know he's an asshole, but he got to me. I want to believe that I'm different, that what we have is different, but I can't think of a single thing you could do to prove it to me."

"Andrea, I can promise you that I never treated Stephen like this. Even in the beginning, I never hugged or kissed him simply because I wanted to. I never snuggled beside him because I liked the way he smelled. I don't even know what he smelled like before I gave him a bottle of Ralph Lauren cologne for his birthday," Miranda said, sitting up and anxiously glancing at the monitor. Callie was awake and jumping up and trying to climb out of her crib. "Of course, we got along better when we were first together, but—ask Caroline and Cassidy. It was entirely different. I have to go get Callie before she breaks that crib," she said, heading to the door. "Darling, whatever you want, say the word and I'll do it."

A few minutes later, she returned to the room carrying Callie and kicking two bouncers through the doorway. She fastened Callie in hers, then came to gather Cate and fasten her inside as well. Once they were settled, she crawled next to Andrea again and tightly wrapped her arms around her. "Andrea, I love you so much," she whispered.

"If I asked you to leave Runway, would you?"

"Yes," Miranda replied without a moment's hesitation. "Do you want me to?"

The young woman shook her head. "If I asked you to, uh, dye your hair dark brown, would you?"

"Yes—want me to call Tiffani?"

Andrea shook her head. "If I asked you to marry me today, would you?"

"Yes," Miranda said, smiling brightly. "But technically, we wouldn't be able to obtain the license until Monday at 8:30 AM, and then we'd have to wait twenty-four hours to officially marry. If there were a way to make it happen today, I would. We could fly to Vegas tonight if you're feeling up to it?"

Andrea turned and looked her in the eye. "Seriously? You'd do that? I mean, how do you know all the details?" She couldn't imagine Miranda had bothered with all that in any of her previous marriages.

"I think about it a lot, and finally looked up the process for New York," Miranda said with a shrug.

"You think about marriage in general or marrying me?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Marrying you. The first time I really thought about it was when I was with the girls in Riviera Maya for Christmas last year. I didn't look up the details until after we started seeing each other, naturally," she said.

"Really?"

"Well right now would be a very inconvenient time to tell a lie, don't you think? Actually, you can probably look in my calendar book. I scribbled down the address of the City Clerk's office, and I have a document pouch in the top drawer of my desk with all of my finalized divorce decrees."

"You would seriously go to the City Clerk's office first thing Monday morning?"

Miranda gently stroked the young woman's cheek. "Darling, I'd hire a private jet to Vegas this very minute."

"Wow—"

"Yes. Is that what you want? To get married?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean, I haven't thought about it too much. I don't want it to be like this. Maybe some rainy spring day in the Hamptons when the girls are old enough to remember it and not cry through it. And also after I make enough of a name for myself that no one will accuse Andrea Priestly of using her wife to get ahead."

"You would take my name?" Miranda asked, softly brushing her cheek.

"Of course—I mean, if you'd let me. I guess I should have asked first."

"Darling, the girls and I would be honored," she said, leaning closer. "Can I kiss you?"

"Are we okay now?" Andrea asked, gently placing her palm against Miranda's chest. "This all started because you were upset with me, and then somehow I upset you and…are we okay?"

"Apology accepted, and I'm sorry for overreacting. I'm still learning how these personal conflicts work."

"I understand, and appreciate you recognizing that this works differently than a situation at the magazine," Andrea said.

"So, can I…?" Miranda asked, patiently hovering over her lips.

"Yes, please," Andrea said, quickly closing the distance between them.

Miranda devoured the young woman's lips, eagerly searching out her tongue and staking her claim inside her mouth. She pulled away and softly traced the features of her face. "When John called earlier," she said as she peppered her face with tiny kisses, "I felt like I couldn't breathe—I was terrified, and betrayed. The anguish was just…oh god, I never want to feel that again. My heart won't stand it."

"I'm so sorry," Andrea said, wrapping her arms tightly around the woman.

TBC