Chapter 9

The next morning was hell. Miranda felt like she'd just run a marathon in heels. Everything hurt. So much for trying to forget the previous night's events. A shower couldn't even erase the feeling of Clinton between her legs.

The tears came, flooding her eyes as she stood beneath an icy cold spray of water. She was a horrible person.

She had failed her daughters and she had failed Andrea.

The girl wasn't going to forgive her, not for this. This was an awful thing for her to do. They had been on the cusp of a relationship and Miranda had gone and fucked it up.

She was freezing, her body so cold. But she couldn't seem to pull herself from the shower. She wanted to punish herself. But when she began to shiver, she decided it was time to get out. She had promised herself she would get up and make her daughter's breakfast, to make up for the previous night. At least they would be able to forgive her. They understood their mother was very busy.

After Miranda dried her hair and applied her face for the day, she quickly pulled on a cream shirt and cardigan, matching it with sleek pin-stripe pants. She slipped into a fiery red pair of heels and then headed downstairs.

She made oatmeal, and as soon as she began pouring it into bowls, her sleepy girls made their way down the stairs. "Morning, babies." She welcomed them with kisses, her stomach churning. She felt nauseous.

"You were gone late last night, mom." Caroline had to mention it.

"I know, I'm sorry. Maybe we can watch a movie Wednesday night." Miranda was going to make this situation better. She knew she could at least right her wrong with her daughters.

The girls ate and Miranda slipped into the bathroom, throwing up what little she had just consumed.

Today was going to be hell.

Andrea was eagerly awaiting the dinner. It had been too long since she had seen Miranda. Two days to be exact. And their phone conversation had been less than satisfactory. Miranda had sounded busy, occupied. She needed her, craved her, wanted to kiss her, to touch her. She felt a distance between them. A distance she didn't want.

She could barely focus at work that day. Her editor called her in, pointing out several mistakes she had made in a revision. She was so completely out of it.

When the end of the day came, she couldn't wait to grab a taxi home to quickly change. Change into a little Yves Saint Laurent number she'd picked up the day before. Everything was in order, her hair flawless, make-up to boot. She looked stunning.

And when she arrived at that restaurant and stepped inside, everyone looked.

Everyone except the one person she wanted to see.

Miranda had her back turned to her. She looked stunning from behind in a little black dress. Her back was bare, her milky skin looked smooth in the dim lighting of Torre di Pisa.

She walked up to Miranda and let her hand graze against the exposed skin, causing Miranda to shiver and look up. She seemed distracted, her smile forced, her lips taut when Andrea leaned down to kiss her. The kiss didn't last near as long as it should have and Miranda quickly looked away.

At first Andrea thought it was because she didn't want to be seen in public kissing a former employee, but she would soon learn that was not it at all.

Andrea took her seat and leaned forward, studying the older woman, who, in turn, studied her menu. Her eyes weren't even looking at the page, not really. They were unfocused.

"Hey, what's going on?" Andrea asked, reaching out to touch Miranda's hand, but Miranda slowly slinked away.

"What do you mean?" Miranda was buying time.

"You're distracted, you…have you been crying?" Her eyes were red, puffy.

Miranda looked away, clearly not liking this analysis of what she had and had not been doing. She closed her eyes, a single tear dripping down her cheek. She shook her head.

"What is it, honey?" Andrea's voice was so concerned.

"Don't…" Miranda started, but stopped. Andrea sat back. "Quit being so nice, I don't deserve your niceness."

"What are you talking about?" Andrea frowned.

"I'm a horrible person, Andrea." Miranda stared right at her, but gradually lost the nerve to look her right in the eyes as she went on, "I'm a bad, bad person. I think you should get far away from me…I…I…" Miranda looked away again.

"What are you…what's happened, Miranda?" Andrea was beginning to worry. This wasn't at all how the night was supposed to go.

"I wanted to wait, for us… to wait…I wanted it to be special…and I fucked it up…I totally screwed up…you don't ever have to talk to me again, I would understand…if you didn't" Miranda was intelligibly mumbling.

"Miranda." Andrea silenced her. "What are you saying?"

"I screwed up, Andrea. I always come in and screw everything up."

"What-"

"I fucked some…guy last night." Miranda's voice was sharp, but soft.

A surprised silence settled between them. Andrea opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"Oh God." Miranda had never been so broken in public before. She didn't know what to do. She felt nauseous again. She got up and moved quickly towards the bathroom, making it just in time before she threw up.

She stayed in the bathroom, washed her mouth out thoroughly, taking her time, for she was sure that when she got back to the table, she would be alone.

She hadn't expected to tell her, she hadn't wanted to tell her. But it had slipped out. Though she had deeply wanted their relationship to be honest and open, she was still surprised that it had just flooded out of her mouth. She had sounded like a babbling idiot, as if it would make a difference. Andrea didn't have to forgive her.

Miranda had messed up potentially the best relationship of her life before it had even begun.

Gathering up her courage to return to the table, grab her purse, and dart back home before she started really crying, she stepped out of the bathroom. And the instant she did, the wind was knocked out of her.

Andrea was still there. She looked as if she hadn't moved in the last five or so minutes that Miranda had been gone.

The only difference from moments before was that Andrea had found her words.

"What the hell, Miranda?" Andrea snapped, she looked very pissed.

Miranda didn't speak. She wanted Andrea to get it all out.

"You had sex with some guy last night? Was he some random guy? Have you been seeing him? Were you seeing him this weekend? Were you cheating on him with me? God, Miranda. How many times have you cheated on someone? Oh my God, you're not trustworthy. That's why you've been divorced so many times. Oh God. Why did I think that I would be different? I'm just a play thing to you!"

"No!" Miranda screamed, she hadn't meant to yell. She glanced around and then lowered her voice, "no. You were not just a play thing. Don't you ever think that. Ever." Miranda snapped, surprised by how much she cared that this girl knew how much she cared for her.

This seemed to surprise Andrea as well. The girl fell silent for a moment. But the silence only lasted a short while. Andrea opened her mouth to ask why? Why she mattered? But the words didn't come.

"I…I don't know what to think about…I just…I need to leave." Andrea suddenly decided.

It was fair; after all Miranda had expected her to leave moments ago. "All right." Miranda nodded, knowing this wasn't the first time she had been abandoned in public at a restaurant.

She deserved it, she supposed. She always ruined a good thing. It was as if she enjoyed being hurt and hurting others. She was beginning to wonder if she got pleasure out of making people feel like shit. She watched as Andrea hesitated before standing up. It was as if she didn't want to leave, or something.

And Andrea, in turn, saw, for the first time how broken Miranda truly was. She almost pitied her.

But she had to leave, to get away from Miranda. She had to think it through.

Miranda watched as the brunette fully stood up and placed her napkin on top of her unused plate. She watched as Andrea grabbed her purse, and she watched the girl leave her vision. She didn't turn to watch her walk away; she just sat and stared at the empty chair across from her.

She deserved this. She was a horrible person.

But then suddenly a small, cold hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped. Surprise defined the line in her brow when she looked up to find Andrea coming ever closer to her. Their lips met. Andrea's lips moved timidly, but Miranda, willing to show how sorry she was in that one connection, allowed her lips to move feverishly, as if by kissing Andrea so deeply, so passionately it would make her stay. It was awkward, and she was sure the entire restaurant was staring, but she didn't care. She placed her hands on the brunette's cheeks, trying to deepen the already deep kiss.

Andrea came up to breathe, surprised by Miranda's public display, somehow thrown off by the older woman's needy lips.

She had gotten the answer to her question…but she wanted the woman to suffer.

So she turned and left. Left for good this time.

Miranda shriveled up, suddenly very aware of the people who were sitting next to her. She had to leave. She tossed a twenty on the table and called for her car.

She was back at her townhouse in no time, lying tear-stained and half-dressed on her bathroom floor. She hoped her girls wouldn't come and find her. She looked pathetic.

Andrea hadn't been able to leave. Not like that. She had to know. She had to find out if Miranda still cared for her, or if it had all just been some big lie. She had gone back to test the woman, to see if she would be willing to potentially get caught making out with her ex-assistant in a restaurant. If she did then it might just prove her loyalty. And prove was exactly what she had done.

Andrea had been nearly in shock. The woman was a mess, the kiss had been a mess, but Miranda had wanted it so badly. She had wanted for Andrea to forgive her. She needed Andrea.

She was a broken person and Andrea wasn't sure she was ready for the task of helping one Ms. Miranda Priestly. It all just seemed too much….

…but deep down she cared for Miranda. Even after what she had done to her. That had to say something, didn't it? Miranda had done the unspeakable. She'd fucked some guy on a whim. Who was to say she wouldn't do it again?

Though Andrea had no idea, she knew that deep down she still had very, very strong feelings for the silver-haired woman. Feelings that somehow couldn't be broken by this huge faux pas.

She would give it a week. Maybe it just hadn't settled in yet. Maybe she wasn't mad enough yet. Maybe she needed time.

And so she would give herself time. And Miranda some time to sweat. Miranda had always been so good at making Andrea sweat, so now it was her turn to turn the tables on her former boss from hell.

And even though she wanted to forget everything and just sleep that night, she couldn't help but wish Miranda was there, innocent as she had been nights before, cuddling up beside her. And those steel, blue eyes didn't vanish until the next morning when Andrea realized what had happened.

TBC...you people should review. I know you're reading. Don't make me withold the next part from you...tsk. lol