Thanks for reading! Kudos to the reviewer who guessed correctly-Andrea is going to light Miranda's fire...in more ways than one. ;)
Miranda stared at the woman opposite from her. The tall brunette was wearing a black Northface coat, dark blue jeans tucked into brown boots, and a large woolen scarf. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her large dark eyes were slightly glassy, suggesting she had too much to drink before she knocked on the door.
"Can I help you?" Miranda asked cooly, trying to calm her slightly fluttering heart. She hadn't been called pretty in a long time. She'd been called intimidating in her adult life, but not many commented on her beauty.
"Since you obviously aren't my brother, would you mind telling me where he is?" the other woman's face turned down in a pout. "I need to talk to him."
"He's in America," Miranda informed the brunette, hiding her charmed expression by the British accent.
"What? Why didn't he tell me? How did he get there? That's so not fair," her face crumbled, and she took a wobbly step forward. "I'm the one with the problems!"
She tripped over unsteady feet, and Miranda's arms automatically reached out to catch her. The young woman quickly pushed away from the Editor, and sniffled pathetically, her eyes tearing up.
"I-" she hiccuped, "I'm sorry to bother you."
"Don't be ridiculous," Miranda rolled her eyes and reached for the other woman's arm. "Come in."
The crying woman sniffled and gratefully stepped into the house, but immediately recoiled when she felt the cold air penetrate her body. "It's freezing," she mumbled and wrapped her arms around herself.
"The fireplace wasn't working," Miranda lied, feeling a blush creep on her proud cheekbones. There was no chance she was admitting to this beautiful woman that she couldn't light it.
"Maybe I'll take a crack at it," she wiped tears away from her eyes, and Miranda felt a foreign feeling of sympathy and concern for her.
The brunette teetered over to the fireplace, and kneeled down. Frowning slightly, she turned her head back to Miranda and asked, "Where are the matches?"
"Er, try under the couch," Miranda blushed deeper, thankful for the low lighting.
Her forehead creased in concentration when she extended her arm under the couch, only to be replaced with a look of victory a second later when her fingers closed around the matchbox. Pulling it out, a bright grin appeared on the woman's face. She picked up a spare piece of newspaper, and lit the match before lighting the paper on fire and throwing the wad into the fireplace. Miranda watched the simple process with extreme embarrassment. How could she not have figured it out? Shaking her head at herself, she watched the brunette stir the cozy fire with the black poker, and then close the grate. She turned, and Miranda inhaled a sharp breath when she saw the shadows from the fire casting beautiful shadows on the youthful face. The young woman, oblivious to the other woman's fascination, unwrapped her scarf and unzipped her coat, revealing a simple cerulean shirt underneath.
"Thank you," Miranda said, walking over and seating herself on the couch. She sighed contentedly when the fire's heat warmed her, and she nonchalantly scooted closer to the source of the warmth.
"You're welcome," the other woman replied and pushed herself up to sit on the couch a couple inches away from the fashion maven. "Aren't you going to take your coat off?"
"I don't warm up easily," Miranda placed her hands between her knees, trying to heat them up subtly. Plus, the coat was hiding her wine-stained shirt.
After a few moments of silence and staring into the fire, the brunette finally spoke. "My name's Andy," she stuck out her hand.
Charmed, Miranda took it and shook it firmly. "Miranda. Surely your full name isn't Andy."
"Oh, it's Andrea Marie Sachs, but most people call me Andy."
"Ah," Miranda crossed her legs. "Why do you and your brother have different last names?"
"Same mother, different father," Andrea shrugged. "So technically we're step-siblings, but we're really close."
"I take it you were looking for him then?"
"Yes," Andrea's eyes turned sad again. They sat in silence again for a couple of seconds until the brunette blurted out, "Nate dumped me."
"Nate is…?" Miranda asked, seeking clarification.
"My ex-boyfriend," Andrea's eyes welled with tears and she sniffled. "He was my longest boyfriend too! We've been dating since our second year in Comprehensive school, and I thought I really loved him and he really loved me. But then after I got a job at the newspaper, I started working really late, and he couldn't handle it. He thought I was cheating on him whenever I stayed at the office past midnight, and he hated that I would miss events because of work. But I couldn't help it-I finally got promoted to a Junior Editor, and I've just….I've been working so hard to get to this point," she dissolved into a mess of tears and Miranda reached out her hand, placing it softly on the distraught woman's knee. The brunette lifted her head and smiled slightly at the other woman. She reached down and laced her fingers with the soft hand on her leg. "Thank you," she said shyly, and then hiccuped. "As you can tell, I drank a few too many before I came here."
"Perfectly understandable," Miranda said, keeping her hand firmly in Andrea's. "When I heard of my husband's plans to divorce me, I also found a good friend in Chardonnay."
"Chardonnay? No way." Andrea snorted. "Classy though. I had shots of whiskey at the local pub."
"Classy," Miranda echoed, smiling slightly when she heard the other woman giggle.
"So, have you been divorced long?" Andrea's eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth, losing the contact between the two, much to Miranda's dismay. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry or anything-"
"It's fine," Miranda raised an eyebrow at the younger woman's babbling. "Much like you, my husband found my job too demanding, and only recently we've started divorce proceedings."
Andrea looked sad at that news and she sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"I'm not," Miranda said, drawing a look of shock from the writer's face.
Andrea didn't know how to respond to that statement, so she fell silent before opening her mouth again.
"Where are you from anyways?" she reached her hand up to brush back a lock of hair that fell in her face.
"New York," Miranda felt a small tendril of fear when she asked. She knows who I am!
"And what is your surname?"
Miranda briefly considered lying. She wanted to know the other woman without her reputation getting in the way, but realized that lying would probably not be the best course of action. She sighed and said, "Priestly. Miranda Priestly."
"Miranda Priestly," Andrea said, rolling the syllables around in her mouth. Miranda found that she quite liked hearing her name in a British accent because unlike Emily, Andrea's smooth voice wasn't shaking when she talked to her. "I like it!"
Relief flood through the Editor's system. The other woman didn't know who she was. Thank goodness-Miranda wanted to hold some anonymity during her vacation. She was grateful that the other woman wasn't just using her. There were too many fake people in the industry she worked in, including herself. It was refreshing to meet somebody who seemed real and still retained that innocence.
She chuckled and said, "Thank you."
"So what do you do Miranda?" Andrea wiped stray tears out of the corners of her eyes, and Miranda accepted the obvious change in conversation.
"I'm in the fashion industry," Miranda leaned back into the soft couch.
"I'm afraid I don't know much about that world," Andrea said ruefully and tucked her long legs underneath her. "My brother does though. He loves this one magazine, Catwalk, or something like that."
Instead of feeling offended, Miranda smirked. "I haven't heard of it."
"Oh," Andrea scrunched up her nose in the most adorable way. "I can't remember the title."
"That's alright," Miranda tilted her head. "What are you interested in Andrea?" she pronounced the name with the emphasis on the second syllable.
"Writing mostly, and reading," Andrea blushed. "Nothing too interesting."
"On the contrary, I find you really interesting," Miranda hid a smile when she saw Andrea's pretty blush deepen. "What kind of reading do you do?"
"I love poetry, especially Emily Dickinson," Andrea said, her eyes sparkling as she came alive with the subject she knew most about. "I love the classics…Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, Tolkien. All of them are British except for Dickinson," she laughed. "I've always been the nerdy kid who had her nose stuck in a book in school. So what drew you to fashion?"
"I grew up in London," Miranda enjoyed the look of surprise on the other woman's face. "My grandmother was a lover of the American fashionistas…Marilyn, Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, etc. She owned a small boutique in the middle of the fashion center, and would sew all of her own clothes. She was the one who taught me how to sketch and construct art. My father left me when I was about 5, and my mother wasn't around much after either. I don't blame her of course," Miranda's eyes grew slightly misty as she poured her life out to the only person she ever told, "she was a single mom who was struggling to make ends meet. She had to work two jobs to support us both, so I spent the majority of my life with my grandma, in her shop. I still remember the day Greta Garbo came into the boutique. She was old, but still beautiful. My grandma was so overwhelmed and pleased, she almost cried. I was only 13 years old at the time, but I still remember the look of joy on her face. It's the best memory I have of her," Miranda discreetly wiped away a tear. "The day she died was the saddest day of my entire life. I was distraught. She was my entire world-she inspired me everyday, and taught me life's valuable lessons. After she died, I inherited everything she had, but I gave 3/4 of it to my mother. I thought she needed it more than I did, but the morning after I gave her the money, she was gone. No note, no explanation. She left me," Miranda shook slightly at the old pain that came with the thought of her mother abandoning her. "I used the remaining money to fly to America and try and make a living. I started from the very bottom and worked my way up the ladder. It took me years to get to my position as Editor-in-Chief, and I am so grateful to my grandma for teaching me everything I know today. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about her."
Andrea's eyes were so tender in that moment, Miranda's breath caught in her throat when she saw the liquid pools of chocolate.
"Come here," Andrea whispered, opening her arms.
Miranda hesitated just for a moment before scooting over into a warm embrace. The slender woman's arms wrapped themselves around her slim frame, and drew her in close. Miranda inhaled a shaky gasp, partly due to the close proximity, and partly because she was crying, and breathed in a delicious fragrance of perfume, lotion, and Andrea's unique scent. She had never spoken about her past before, and although it hurt, it was a healing balm to her soul.
"I'm sorry for being so emotional," Miranda tried to pull back, but was stopped by surprisingly strong arms. "It takes a lot to make me cry. I haven't had a good cry like this in I don't know how long."
"Don't apologize," Andrea whispered in the older woman's ear. "I can tell that you needed this."
She laid down, and gently pulled Miranda down on top of her. The Editor, surprised, jerked back. "What are you doing?"
"I can see how much pain you're in, and I thought it would help you sleep," Andrea frowned slightly.
Miranda studied the glassy orbs, and decided it wouldn't hurt anything. The other woman was obviously drunk. The older woman gingerly lowered herself down, shifting most of her weight on the couch itself and not on Andrea. She threw an arm around the brunette's midsection, and rested her head on the young woman's breast-bone, over a thumping heart. Andrea's arm came up and curled around Miranda's back, her chin gently resting on top of soft white hair. Somehow, their legs intertwined, and Miranda let out a peaceful sigh that was echoed by Andrea. Miranda felt slightly absurd curled up next to a woman she had literally just met an hour earlier, but her ridiculousness soon faded when she felt a pair of soft lips land on her forehead and arms gently tightening around her frame. She felt something she hadn't in a long time, laying in the warm and comfortable embrace. She felt safe.
Emily looked at her phone in shock. David's message shone up at her, and although she tried to deny it, she couldn't help the slight fluttering of her heart. She felt a huge smile stretch across her lips before she quickly pursed her lips and whipped her head back and forth. Letting out a sigh of relief when she realized she was alone, she allowed a tiny smile to play across her lips before she cleared her throat and typed a response.
Mr. Mason,
I appreciate your invitation for tea. We Brits can't get enough of the beverage! Shall we meet at a restaurant or shall we meet at my home?
Emily Charlton
She sent it quickly, before she had time to proof-read it and then waited nervously for the response. Oh gosh, she hoped she didn't sound too dumb or cheeky. Her phone buzzed, and Emily pounced.
Dear Ms. Charlton,
Let's meet at Nigel's house-I promise, he'll clear out. I brought some teas from Surrey that I feel you might take a fancy to. Let's meet tomorrow at 2:00?
David
Emily couldn't help the smile this time. She quickly typed a response and sat down in her chair with a dazed expression on her face. Raising a cool palm to her flushed cheek, she giggled slightly. What was wrong with her? She had never felt like this before.
2:00 couldn't come faster for Emily, but of course, she was her cool, calm, collected self the whole morning. Right before she left, she ate two cubes of cheese since she felt very faint. Taking a deep breath, Emily left the office, ignoring the wink from Nigel, and hailed a cab. The whole way, she tried to calm her nerves. What the hell did she even have to be nervous about? Fiddling with her fingers, she idly checked her makeup using the camera in her iPhone and smiled when her face looked immaculate. Her green and black smokey eye was perfect, and her foundation covered her imperfections perfectly. Jiggling her knee slightly, Emily breathed out a heavy breath, and leaned back in the cheap upholstery.
"Rough day?" the cab driver looked in the rearview mirror.
Emily shot him a glare and frostily replied, "No."
That was the end of their conversation. The cab driver pulled up to the apartment building, and Emily passed him a twenty and a ten before she slid out of the taxi. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and confidently strode up to the door. She pressed the buzzer, and felt weak in the knees when the charming accented voice came crackling on.
"Is this Emily Charlton promptly on time for our tea date?"
"Yes," Emily had to hide her smile, feeling shocked at her actions. She normally wasn't this…giddy feeling. "Are you ready for me?" She blushed at her word choice.
"Absolutely."
The intercom buzzed, and Emily let herself in. She took the elevator up to the 14th floor, and knocked on the door a little too forcefully. Cringing, she tried to school her features when she heard footsteps on the other side. The door swung open, and Emily swallowed hard when she took in the other man's appearance. He dressed simply in a dark green shirt and slacks, but his eyes and easy-going smile made Emily's brain turn to mush.
"Hi," she said breathily and then frowned at herself.
"Hi yourself," David smiled wider and stepped aside to let her in. "Let me take your coat."
"Thank you," Emily blushed when she felt his eyes quickly scanning her body.
She was wearing a simple green dress that matched her eyeshadow, but it fit her perfectly, and she knew it flattered her slim frame. David walked away to hang up her coat, only to return a second later with a teacup in his hand.
"What is this?" Emily raised an eyebrow as she took the offered cup from him. "Are you trying to poison me?"
"Poison?" David snorted. "No, just trying to bring a piece of home back to you. Try it."
Emily closed her eyes and took a delicate sip, smiling when the warm liquid trailed down her throat, leaving behind a familiar flavor. "Earl Grey. Delicious."
"It's a classic," David shrugged. "Haven't met an English person who doesn't love it yet. Delectable blend of a delicate flowery Darjeeling with citrus bergamot."
He took the half-drunken cup and offered his arm out to a stunned Emily. The redhead took it, trying hard to control her blush, and he led her to the kitchen, where a delightful aroma filled the air. Emily gasped when she saw the area. Multiple teapots sat on the stove, while dozens of teacups filled the countertop. She turned to David with her mouth slightly open.
"You did all this?" she whispered, extremely touched.
"Yes," he grinned at her and hesitantly reached out to hold her hands in between his own. "I told you. I wanted to bring some of the UK-some of your home-back to you."
Emily was speechless for a moment, and looked at their joined hands. Then she looked back up and held his gaze. "Thank you," she whispered, and gave his warm hands a gentle squeeze. "It's the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me."
"You're welcome," he grinned. "I have another great tea that you'll love."
He lead her to a bar stool, and like the gentleman he was, pulled it out for her to sit on. She crossed her legs and rested her chin on the back of her hand, watching him. He picked up a kettle and poured the steaming liquid into two of the cups before he picked them both up and handed her one. Emily inhaled deeply, and detected a hint of mint.
"Cheers," David held up his cup and they clinked them together.
"Cheers," Emily echoed with a smile on her face. She raised the cup to her lips and blew on the liquid gently before tilting it. It had a bit of a kick to it. "What is this? It's good."
"That is Moroccan Mint," David rested his forearms on the marble counter. "Nana is a large-leafed, aromatic plant that, as you found out, is spicy."
"Mmm," Emily took another sip.
"Next," David snatched the cup out of her hands and held up his hand at Emily's protests. "I'm putting all of the teas in a line on the counter, and then at the end, you can choose which ones are your favorite."
"Fine," Emily's eyes narrowed playfully.
"Fine," David raised an eyebrow and turned to brew the next batch of tea.
"So what do you do David?" Emily rested her chin on the back of her hand again.
"Me?" he looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm a writer, like my sister. Unlike her though, I work at a bookstore, since being a writer isn't very profitable unless you sell a couple of best-selling novels. Then again, working at a bookstore isn't very profitable either. At least Andy has the newspaper to help her out financially, and can still write in her free time. Although, it's hard for her," his tone turned sad.
He turned with the glasses in his hand, and handed one to Emily. She accepted it, and looked down into the tea. "I would like to read some of your work," she said almost shyly. "I bet you're a wonderful writer."
"You'd really want to?" David looked surprised.
"Of course I would!" Emily's head snapped up, shocked at the incredulous tone.
"Wow," he shook his head. "Usually nobody wants to read it except for Andy."
"Oh, well I do," Emily reached out her hand and placed it on his forearm with a grin.
He stared at her for a minute before he lifted his cup. "Cheers Emily Charlton."
"Cheers," she tapped her glass against his. "Interesting," she said after she swallowed.
"It's Lemon Verbena. An unusual fruit infusion with many natural oils and a delicate citrus flavor," David peered into his cup. "One of my personal favorites. Perhaps it makes me unusual too."
"Perhaps it makes me odd too, since I also love it," Emily ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her cup.
"Maybe," he chuckled.
In the end, Emily tasted about 8 different teas from her childhood. She didn't know how David had gotten the teas to America, and part of her didn't want to either. She liked the mystery of it. Their conversation had been lively and Emily enjoyed David's company immensely. He made her laugh, and her spirit felt lighter than it had in years.
"So which one was your favorite?" David walked around the counter and sat down in a stool next to her.
"Lemon Verbena, Camomile, and Jasmine Gold," Emily replied.
"Wide range in flavors," David tapped his chin. "Interesting."
"What's interesting?" Emily rested her palm in her cheek, tilting her head at him.
"I like how you have different favorites in multiple different taste categories," he shrugged. "I don't know. I like it. I like you."
Emily inhaled sharply and set her cup down. "Like me?" she said in a small voice. She had always been the second girl-the girl that a boy would settle for if the true object of his desires didn't want him.
"Of course," he reached out and cupped her cheek, making Emily close her eyes at the feeling. "I know this is crazy since we just met and all, but I feel drawn to you Emily."
"I feel the same about you," she confessed, a few tears slipping out of her closed lashes.
His thumb ran across her cheekbone, brushing the tears away. "Why are you crying?" he asked gently.
"Because," Emily said helplessly. "I don't know. I haven't courted in years. I haven't been to my hometown since I left it 8 years ago, and suddenly, you show up and bring everything I could possibly want. Besides, nobody really finds me attractive or 'girlfriend' material."
"I would like to oppose that assessment," David reached his other hand up, and cupped her face with hands. Emily's green eyes flew open and she looked at him with teary eyes. "I find you incredibly beautiful and you are really good 'girlfriend' material." He smiled at her, and then leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. David pulled back, leaving a breathless Emily looking at him with wide eyes.
"Wow," she whispered and her shaking hand came up to trace her lips.
"Wow good?" he asked.
"Yes, very," she threw her arms around him and kissed him again, her heart feeling lighter than ever. They broke apart, both smiling at each other.
"Emily Charlton," David took her hand, "would you do me the honor of courting me?"
"It would be my pleasure David Mason," Emily grinned at the use of their last names and hugged him tightly.
David kissed her cheek and held her tighter, a wide smile spreading across his face. Emily's heart softened and she kissed him again, feeling lighter than air. Finally, she felt like she had found somebody who would take care of her and protect her. It didn't matter if she had just met him-this growing thing between them felt strong, powerful, and true. Emily smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer. Yes, he was the one.