Several hours later, Miranda woke in a sweat. She crawled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, where she ran a washcloth under cold water before pressing it to her face, her neck, her arms, anywhere in hopes of cooling herself off. Knowing how cold marble always is, she sat on the tile floor of her bathroom, stretching out against the cool marble tile. She didn't know how long she laid like that, but she must have fallen asleep. When she woke, she felt better aside from a small headache.
Turning to walk back into the bedroom, she noticed flowers on her nightstand, peonies. Looking around the bathroom, she saw lilies and other flowers scattered about. The vase of flowers next to the bed had a small note. Creeping over towards the bed, she picked up the card: "Love you." it said. No signature, but she knew it was from Andrea.
Miranda smiled as she looked on the young woman, asleep, curled up against her pillow. She slowly crawled into bed, sliding up against Andrea's slender frame. Miranda turned onto her right side, facing Andrea, their faces only inches apart. She reached her hand up, gently sliding her fingers underneath Andrea's chin, "Andrea," she said, softly nudging the woman next to her. Andrea's eyes blinked open and she froze, her nose practically touching Miranda's. "Andrea, thank you for the flowers…and I love you, too," Miranda said, kissing her softly on the cheek before sliding her hand around the young woman's waist, resting her head back on the pillow.
"I'm glad you like them," she said, pretending she didn't hear Miranda's exact words. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine now," Miranda murmured, her eyes closed.
"When you wake up again, I'll make you something to eat," she said.
"Mmm-kay," Miranda sighed as she snuggled closer. Andrea held her breath as she felt Miranda's body press against her own. Her pulse was racing, and she was torn between wanting Miranda to rest and wanting to pin her down and ravish her. After several minutes of deep breathing, she calmed herself enough to fall asleep.
Hours later, Andrea woke as sunlight streamed into the bedroom. Miranda had turned to sleep on her back at some point, and Andrea slowly made her way to the edge of the bed, eager for a cup of hot coffee and a shower. She had been programming the coffee pot the night before so she wouldn't have to go downstairs twice. Seeing as it was still a little early, Andrea decided to shower before Miranda woke. She opened Miranda's bedroom door, and headed down the hall to the guest bedroom, leaving the doors open so Miranda would hear the shower if she woke.
Changing into her True Religion jeans and a creme-colored Chanel three-quarter length sleeve sweater, Andrea quickly dried her hair and applied a bit of foundation and lip gloss before heading back to Miranda's room. Andrea was surprised to see Miranda was not in bed. "Miranda?" she called.
"Just a minute," she said, her voice coming from the bathroom. Andrea took the opportunity to straighten out the sheets and fluff the pillows. "Which ones are my pain pills?" she asked Andrea quietly, leaning on the doorframe.
"Oh god," she said, rushing to grab the bottle. "How long?" she asked, handing Miranda two pills and a glass of water.
Miranda swallowed each pill and handed the glass back to Andrea. "I don't know, an hour maybe," she said, walking back towards the bed. Andrea quickly grabbed her robe off the bedpost and helped her into it.
"Come sit in the study," she said. "You need to eat something or those pain pills will do more harm than good," Andrea said, leading her to the couch. "How about a waffle with honey? And maybe some blueberries?"
Miranda nodded as Andrea pranced out of the room to make Miranda breakfast. Cara found delicious toaster waffles at the store, and Andrea drizzled a bit of pure honey across them before bringing them upstairs with two cups of half-caff coffee. "Here you go," she said.
"I'm not hungry, Andrea."
"Doesn't matter, you need to eat at least half of this."
Miranda turned up her nose at Andrea before taking the plate and starting to eat the waffle. Andrea drank her coffee in the chair next to Miranda as she read through her emails. "Miranda, I think you'll appreciate this email," she said. "Emily just wrote to me, complaining about how demanding Nigel is and how perverse it is that your temporary substitute is the bigger bitch."
Miranda smiled, looking up at Andrea as she placed her plate back on the coffee table. "Watch what you wish for," Miranda said, closing her eyes again and holding her breath, clearly in pain.
Andrea set her coffee down and moved to sit next to Miranda. "Talk to me," she said, resting her hand on Miranda's knee. "What's going on now?"
"My back," she said between breaths, "it's like a dull sharp ache, if that makes sense."
"Will it help if I rub it?" Andrea asked.
"Try it."
Miranda turned to face the arm of the couch and leaned forward, resting her head on the high arm rests. Andrea began softly applying pressure, gently rubbing and kneading the woman's back. "Is this okay?" she asked.
"Yessss. Don't stop," she said. After nearly ten minutes, Andrea paused, her hands growing numb. "Thank you," Miranda said. Andrea wrapped her arms tightly around Miranda, resting her chin on the older woman's shoulder.
"What else can I do for you?" she asked.
"Just hold me like this," Miranda whispered as she leaned back into Andrea's embrace.
The next week was much the same: Miranda was nauseous, achy, and feverish. But, after that, Miranda felt really good for a week, that is, until she had to go to chemotherapy and start the cycle all over again. By the time Miranda had two chemo treatments, her hair was coming out in rather large clumps, and much of the hair on her skin had already fallen out. Andrea was living at the townhouse full-time, and Miranda had agreed to pay the monthly rent and assessments on her apartment since she was obviously not staying there.
A few days before Miranda's third treatment, Andrea woke to find Miranda crying in the bathroom. A large patch of hair near her temple had fallen out and there was no styling that could hide it. Andrea sat next to her on the small bench and wrapped her arm around her.
"I can call Erika and have her come over this morning if you'd like," Andrea suggested. They had already spoken to Miranda's hair stylist and explained the need for a private, in-home cut. Erika was gracious enough to offer her services at a minute's notice.
"I have no choice," she cried, "I have to."
"Miranda, it's hair. It grows back on its own. You already went through a double mastectomy; this is nothing."
"You always manage to put things in perspective," Miranda said, softly smiling as she wiped the tears off her cheek.
That morning, Erika came and shaved Miranda's head, leaving nothing more than a short stubble. Miranda didn't notice, but Andrea took a lock of Miranda's silver-white strands off the floor and tucked it safely away in the guest bedroom.
"Miranda, really, you look gorgeous," Andrea said. Erika nodded in agreement as she cleaned up and packed her supplies.
"If by that you mean like Jamie Lee Curtis…" Miranda droned.
"No way," Andrea said, "You look sexy like Demi in G.I. Jane—it really brings out your clear blue eyes."
Miranda blushed. After living with Andrea for the past two months, she still hadn't learned how to take a compliment.
Emily had sent over a plethora of scarves in various sizes, prints, and fabrics, as well as casual and formal hats, which Miranda surprisingly enjoyed playing with as she sat in front of the mirror, often choosing a simple Hermes silk scarf.
"Miranda, I have lunch downstairs, a chicken salad wrap," Andrea called.
"I'm not hungry," Miranda said. "I'll eat it later."
"You've said that for the past few days, tell me, what's wrong?" Andrea asked.
"Nothing tastes good," Miranda said with a shrug. "It's like I can taste burnt flesh in my mouth when I'm eating."
"Well," Andrea said, the eternal optimist that she is, "there has to be something that complements that particular charred flavor. We'll just have to find it."
Miranda smiled and shook her head at the young woman, thinking how wonderful she was. They spent the rest of the day taste-testing different foods until they found three foods Miranda would tolerate: fresh pineapple, cooked beets, and no-added-sugar Steaz tea. It was a very limited diet, but Andrea knew how important it was to keep eating and stay hydrated. She and Cara devised a few pineapple smoothie recipes for Miranda where they could add protein powder, and she seemed to be doing better.
Months later, Andrea struggled to get Miranda to drink, let alone eat anything. She was constantly nauseous, losing weight rapidly, and refusing to take pain medication because the side effects were intolerable.
"Miranda, please," Andrea said, laying in bed next to the frail woman, softly massaging her scalp, "you are a strong woman, and you need to fight back here. You can hardly walk because you're so weak. You are dehydrated and dizzy, and your blood pressure is dangerously low. Please," Andrea said, tears streaming down her cheeks, "your daughters need you. Runway needs you. I need you."
"I can't do this anymore," Miranda said. "I can't go through two more treatments."
"You can't or you don't want to?!" Andrea shouted, sitting up and breaking contact with the woman. She never raised her voice at Miranda, and even surprised herself at this outburst.
"You're letting go, Miranda. If you die, it won't be the cancer that killed you, it will be you. Let me know if you've changed your mind," Andrea said before storming out of the room.
She really had nowhere else to go. It wasn't like she could go back to her apartment and risk leaving Miranda alone, but something inside just snapped and she couldn't handle Miranda's pity party. She was really, truly scared that Miranda might not get through this, and that was what hurt more than anything. Miranda, whom she loved, who claimed to love her, too, wouldn't even fight for her.
Andrea wandered the hallway for a few moments before heading to the guest bedroom and flopping on the bed, crying her eyes out. She really hadn't let herself feel much of anything lately, as she had been too busy putting on a calm and positive face for Miranda. But the truth of it was that she was hurting, and not only because of what Miranda was going through—for the first time in her life, she felt like she was 'in love' and that someone loved her back, but she needed more. She needed to know Miranda's love wasn't simply because Andrea was there, available, and kind.
Regardless of her own emotions, she knew it was time to call someone.
"Hi Laura, this is Andrea, Miranda's friend?"
"Oh, hello. How is everything with our patient?"
"Well, not good. Miranda is depressed, and not eating or drinking, and I'm scared."
"Okay, don't worry," Laura said, "this is very common at this stage of treatment. Let's see if we can't try and help her without anti-depressants, because that will trigger even more side effects, okay?"
"Mm-hmm," Andrea said between tears, "What can I do?"
"How about I come to her home with some IV fluids. I'll have Dr Weber write the order to administer in-home, and that should perk her up. If she's as dehydrated as you say, she can take up to three liters, and I imagine it will go quickly."
"You can do that?" Andrea asked.
"Of course. I'd be happy to. Is her current address in the chart?"
"Yes. Thank you so much, Laura, really," Andrea said.
"I'm glad you called. I will see you in about two hours okay?"
"Yes, goodbye." Hanging up the phone, Andrea sighed a deep breath. It was going to be okay. She quickly dried her eyes and went back into Miranda's room, feeling the need to be close to her, to reassure her as well as herself.
Not surprisingly, Miranda was in the same position as before. Andrea crawled onto the bed and curled up behind her, wrapping the other woman tightly in her arms.
"Andrea," Miranda weakly protested, "you don't have to stay here. I don't need you."
"I'm not leaving, Miranda," she said. "In fact, I'm staying forever because I realized it's me who needs you."
Miranda slowly turned around in Andrea's arms, turning to face her so their eyes were inches apart. "You…need…me?" she asked.
"Yes. I love you. I'm in love with you. My life would be nothing without you," she said.
"But, you can't mean that! You're young. You have your life ahead of you. You're missing out on so much," Miranda said. "You deserve so much better than this," she said, gesturing at her own tired body.
"But you are what I want," she said.
"Andrea, I have no hair. My skin is ashen. I can't even walk up the stairs by myself."
"Doesn't matter," Andrea said, looking deeply into Miranda's eyes. "I said, I want you."
Miranda closed her eyes momentarily as she let the young woman's words wash over her. It had been so long since she felt desirable, and now, after everything in the past year, she felt that she needed it, too.
"Miranda," Andrea whispered as she pressed her cheek to Miranda's, "would it be alright if I kissed you?"
Miranda nodded ever so slightly, and Andrea softly pressed her lips to Miranda's. The feeling was exquisite—better than she could have ever dreamed. Miranda slowly reached her hand up, lacing her fingers in Andrea's as she pulled her closer, tasting her hot breath and feeling her smooth skin.
Andrea slowly pulled back, releasing Miranda's lips so the woman could catch her breath. Andrea softly trailed her lips down Miranda's neck, across her chest, around her port. They lay like that, entwined in each other, for quite some time, gently nuzzling each other.
"I kissed your lip balm off," Andrea said, reaching over to the nightstand for the small tube. She squirted a bit onto her finger and softly spread it across Miranda's lips. "Laura your nurse should be stopping by soon," she added, "to give you some IV fluids."
"I don't nee—" Miranda began, abruptly cut off by Andrea's finger to her lips.
"If you won't fight, I will," she said. "Even if it means Laura coming her every single day."
"Thank you," Miranda said, softly kissing Andrea's cheek.
The fluids significantly improved Miranda's condition, and after a few hours, her headache was nearly gone, and her appetite returned. By the time her last chemotherapy treatment came around, they had a set schedule so Laura would come give Miranda fluids beforehand, eliminating some of her discomfort and allowing her to safely take medication.
"Good morning, beautiful," Andrea said, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on Miranda's lips, "Last treatment today," she whispered as the woman was waking.
"Not really," Miranda said, "There's still Herceptin."
"But your hair will start growing back, you'll get your appetite back, the worst is over," Andrea said.
"Will it ever be over?"
"Of course," Andrea reassured her, brushing her knuckles along the woman's cheek. "Think of what you've already been through, and look how far you've come."
"I would never wish this on anyone, you know. Not even someone like… Irv or Jacqueline," she said. "These past seven months, I—I—there was not one day that passed that I didn't wish I were dead. There is no way anyone could ever understand what goes through my mind."
Andrea grew silent as Miranda went on, her heart breaking as Miranda relayed her grief, her loneliness, her pain.
"And it wasn't just that," Miranda continued, staring up at the ceiling. "I constantly worry about my girls, if pushing them away was the right thing to do. What if the cancer comes back and I don't make it? All the time I would have missed… These past months have been a black hole, draining the life out of me. I wish I could just forget everything, have my memory altered. Every day for the rest of my life, I will feel this void, remember this period of time with loathing." Miranda closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, breathing deeply to calm her trembling body.
What she didn't see, was Andrea's reaction, her hand covering her mouth, the tears streaming down her cheeks, the way she turned away as her body began retching.
"Andrea?" Miranda said, thinking it unusual that the young woman wasn't speaking. She opened her eyes and stared at the empty space next to her, wondering where the young woman went.
In the guest bedroom, Andrea shut the door and locked herself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face as she tried to calm down. After several minutes, she stared at herself in the mirror, eyes red and swollen, skin pale, hands trembling as they grasped the ledge of the vanity. "I'm such a fool," she whispered, gently chewing on her upper lip, trying to keep the tears away. "I let my heart get in the way, thinking she actually felt the same about me," she mouthed, "but it was a lie. She wants to forget it all." Andrea walked over and turned the shower on, hoping it would drown out her sobs, not like Miranda would be listening for it anyway.
In the meanwhile, Miranda dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast. Since Andrea wasn't there to prepare it, she settled on eating some pineapple slices that were in a storage container in the fridge. Miranda heated up water in the electric kettle and made herself a cup of hot tea, sipping it slowly while she just sat, silence lingering in the air.
Miranda realized she did not even know what time her appointment was that morning. She set her mug in the sink and slowly headed upstairs to find the brunette, wondering what was taking her so long.
"Andrea," Miranda said, knocking on the guest room door, "what time is my appointment today?"
"11:45" Andrea replied.
"Oh. Okay. We need to leave in twenty minutes, then, don't we?" Miranda asked.
"Yes."
"Okay. I'll just— I'm ready. I'll just wait downstairs."
Andrea was ready, too. While Miranda was downstairs, she slipped out and gathered her things from Miranda's bedroom, packing everything quickly into two large Runway duffle bags and several garment bags.
She waited for twenty minutes to pass, watching the minute hand slowly tick around the clock, 1,200 ticks. When she received a text from Roy that he was downstairs, she knew she had no choice but to head downstairs.
"There you are," Miranda said nonchalantly. "Come, we don't want to be late."
Andrea nodded and followed Miranda out of the house, wearing her large, dark Coach sunglasses. In the backseat of the towncar, Andrea sat apart from Miranda. Though they sat like that countless times, during the ride to chemo, they always had some sort of contact—hands, arms, knees, something. The ride was silent, but today, it was a different sort of silence Miranda didn't quite understand. In the past, they often refrained from speaking out of nervousness, but now, now it was almost over.
Before Miranda could figure it out, Roy pulled up outside the cancer center and stepped outside to open the door for the women. Miranda stepped out of the car and waited, expecting Andrea to join her side. When she realized the young woman hadn't stepped out of the car, she quickly turned back, ducking her head in the backseat. "Andrea, are you coming?"
"No," she said. "I—I thought I told you, I have some stuff to take care of at Runway today. Serena has the flu and Emily really needs help."
"Oh," Miranda said, "Of course, go." She paused for a moment, not sure what to say next. "I'll—um—let you know how the appointment with Dr Weber goes today."
"Okay, thanks," Andrea said. Miranda stepped away from the car as Roy closed the door.
"Miranda, text me when you're ready," Roy said.
Miranda nodded and turned to walk into the building, unsure of what just happened.
When Roy jumped back around to the driver's seat, Andrea was sobbing in the back seat. "Hey, Andy—" he began.
"Just go!" Andrea shouted.
Roy hit the gas and they peeled out into traffic, speeding away. "Where to?"
"I—uh—drop me off at Runway," she said, drying her eyes. "Then I need you to pick up a few bags from the townhouse—they're in the guest room—and take them to my place," she said. "Do you still have my key?"
"Yes, of course. But wait, Andy, I have to ask. Why aren't you going in there with her today?"
"She'll be fine. She doesn't need help anymore. She wants to erase the past seven months anyway, so why not start now," she said.
"Look," Roy said, "I don't know what went on between you two, but this just doesn't seem right. And I happen to know that Serena is perfectly healthy today."
"Don't get involved," Andrea said. The car pulled up to the curb alongside Elias-Clarke. "I mean it," Andrea said before she stepped out of the car and shut the door.
Riding up the elevators, she paced back and forth, her stomach in knots, wounded from this morning's words.
"Hello, Miranda, how are we doing today?" the receptionist asked, continuing before the woman could answer, "I'll go and let Dr Weber know you're here."
Miranda nodded and took a seat, folding her hands in her lap.
"He's ready for you, come on back," she said. Miranda stood and followed the woman into the all-too-familiar office.
"Miranda, hello," he said, shaking her hand. "Where's your friend?" he asked, looking towards the door to see if the young woman was there.
"She's not coming," Miranda said.
"Oh? Well, today is your last official day of chemotherapy as I'm sure you're aware. We ran the blood Laura drew at your home yesterday and everything looks great, your WBC is right where we want to see it at this point. In four weeks, we'll begin Herceptin, and I've decided it best to do every two weeks for three months, so six rounds in total. The first two will be delivered intravenously, but after that, I'll give you a prescription for capsules you can take every other Thursday night." He paused. Miranda's eyes were focused on his desk, but it was clear her mind was far away. "Miranda?" he called. "Do you have any questions?"
"No," she said, shaking her head and looking up to meet his eyes. "Thank you very much," she added as she stood to shake his hand.
"My pleasure. Oh, and there will be a few extra people floating in and out of your treatment this afternoon—nurses, nutritionists, you know. It's all standard, and they will give you the utmost respect and privacy."
"Fine. Thank you," she said, stepping out and heading down the hall towards treatment.
"Laura," Dr Weber said, pulling her aside, "Make sure that Miranda talks with the therapist today, too."
"Will do," she said. "Anything in particular?"
"Her friend Andrea didn't come with her today. I think something is bothering her about that."
Laura nodded and quickly followed Miranda down the hall, where she was already getting settled in the room. After taking a few notes, she slipped the blood pressure cuff on Miranda's arm while Miranda unbuttoned the first few buttons of her blouse to allow access to her port. Laura quickly connected the tubing and arranged it so it was out of her way.
"I'm sure that Karen and Sylvia will be stopping in today, but as always, page me if you need anything," she added.
"Thank you, Laura," Miranda said. Grateful the young nurse didn't mention Andrea's absence. Closing her eyes, she laid her head back on the pillow and forced her mind to think of something that wasn't Andrea.
"Knock, knock," Karen said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. "I'm Dr Karen Shepard, and I just wanted to talk to you about a few things today."
Miranda nodded and motioned her hand towards the empty chair at her bedside. Karen took a seat and reached up to grab Miranda's hand, softly squeezing. "You've come so far, Miranda. How do you feel about today?"
"I'm sorry," Miranda said, pulling her hand away forcefully, "who are you?"
"Dr Shepard, your psychologist," she said with a wink.
"Oh god," Miranda said, bring her hand up to cover her face. "Really, I don't need this."
"It's mandatory, sorry. At least once during your chemotherapy treatments," she said. "I can be quick, but you have to be honest with me."
"Ok. Fine," Miranda said, knowing that this could be very painful if it were to drag out. "How do I feel about today, you asked? Not happy, that's for sure. So it's my last one of this type of treatment. Even when it's all over, it's not like finishing a project where you just keep going and start on the next. This project changed me, changed my life, and honestly, all I want to do right now is erase the past seven months."
"Ok, ok, that's good…You're absolutely right in your comparison, but maybe try thinking of cancer as a long-term project, one you're slowly but surely finishing, maintaining, touching-up."
"My work never needs maintenance or touch-ups." Miranda hissed.
"Okay. Well. Tell me more about the past seven months," Karen said.
"Why?"
"Miranda…" Karen warned.
"Fine," she huffed. "The past seven months are simply a time I want to forget: the most intense pain of my life, plus days upon weeks of sobbing, vomiting, achiness, helplessness… I'm just now starting to feel human again. I would very much like to strike that from my memory for good."
"I can't even begin to understand what you've gone through," Karen said, "but wasn't there anything positive you can extract from that?"
"No."
"What did you do to overcome the pain, the sobbing, the helplessness?"
"I don't know, I just dealt with it."
"But something had to help, help ease it, no?"
"I don't know," Miranda said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Certainly not the drugs—they made me sicker."
"Who was there when you were feeling your most helpless? Surely there was a time you probably couldn't make it out of bed on your own."
At this Miranda's eyes widened as she turned her head to look Karen straight in the eye. "This," she said, "is exactly the kind of thing I want to forget."
"Answer the question, Miranda."
"Fine. Andrea. Andrea was there. Andrea rubbed my back when I was in pain, comforted me when I was nauseous, held me tightly while I cried, helped me in and out of bed and up and down the stairs…held me every single night for the past seven months. It was Andrea," Miranda said. "And she's not here today, and I don't know why. There, happy?"
"Does she usually come with you?" Karen calmly asked.
"Yes. Since the beginning. Since my mammogram."
"Sounds like she's pretty amazing. What's your relationship with Andrea?"
"She was—is," Miranda said, correcting herself, "my assistant."
"Are you typically this close with your assistants?"
Miranda thought for a moment before answering. "No. Andrea has become a friend to me."
Karen nodded, jotting something on her notepad. "Were you expecting her to come with you today?"
"Yes, I suppose," Miranda said. "I mean, of course. She has been at my side since I first found my lump. I stopped questioning her presence months ago."
"So, would you say that her presence might have been a positive thing from the past seven months?"
"Well, obviously," Miranda said, rolling her eyes. "I would never have gotten through that without her."
"What about the future? Do you see your friendship continuing once your cancer is in remission?"
"Of course!" Miranda said, "I mean, yes, I'm sure it will."
"So is it fair to assume that in erasing the past seven months, you would also be erasing the memories of her and her kindness?"
Miranda held her breath as she slowly realized what she had done, the pieces rapidly falling together. "I—I never meant to hurt her," Miranda said as tears streamed down her face. "I thought she understood I was talking about this damn cancer," she said. "I'm sorry, I need to make a call," Miranda said, picking up her phone off the side table.
"I understand," Karen said. "And I'll leave you alone, but just remember that it's probably been really hard on her seeing you like this, and she probably wishes she could erase that part, too. But be sure to let her know you appreciate what she's doing, what she's given up to support you."
Miranda nodded as she frantically dialed Roy's number while Karen stepped out of the room and shut the door.
"Miranda? Is everything okay?" he asked.
"Is Andrea with you?"
"No, I dropped her at Runway. Are you okay? Do you need me to come by?"
"No, no, I'm fine. I just need to speak with her. Thanks," she said, hanging up before giving him a chance to respond.
Dialing Andrea's phone, she was immediately directed to voicemail. It had been nearly a year since she heard Andrea's voicemail greeting. Realizing she must have turned her phone off, she took a deep breath, wondering if Andrea could really just shut herself off so quickly. Not allowing herself time to answer that, she quickly dialed the office number.
"Miranda Priestly's office, can you please hold?" Emily said.
"Emily—wait!" Miranda said.
"Oh my gosh, Miranda, I'm so sorry," she said.
"Emily, is Andrea there?"
"Is everything alright?"
"Is Andrea there?" Miranda repeated. "I need to speak with her immediately."
"Yes. Just one moment, she just went to gather some samples," Emily said. She stared at the phone for a minute, knowing she could never put Miranda on hold, but also knowing she wouldn't be able to scream loud enough to reach Andrea. Biting her lip, she pressed hold and ran down the hallway to get the brunette.
"Em, Em, slow down," Andrea said.
"No, Miranda wants to speak to you—Andy, she's on hold."
"Shit, Em, is she okay?" Andrea said, quickly following her down the hallway.
"Wouldn't tell me—she's on line 3."
"Miranda?" Andrea said, answering the phone slightly out of breath.
"Andrea," Miranda said, exhaling a breath she didn't realize she was holding in. "Andrea, I'm so sorry."
"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" Andrea asked anxiously.
"Nothing is wrong, but I am not okay. I love you, and I absolutely appreciate what you've done for me in the past seven months, and what you continue to do. Don't think for one minute that I have ever taken you for granted. You and I both know I would not have come this far without you. So, please, forgive me, darling."
Tears streamed down Andreas face as she held the receiver, trembling. Emily nervously watched her, wondering what Miranda was saying. "Okay," she said, "Yes, of course. I'm sorry I was being so childish. I shouldn't have let you go alone."
"As long as you'll be there when I get home," Miranda said.
"Yes, of course."
"I'll let you finish up over there," she said. "Pick out some new clothes for us, will you?"
"You trust me?"
"Yes. I love you, and trust you with my life, Andrea."
Andrea smiled. She would never tire of hearing those words. "You too," she said, cautious of her surroundings. "I'll see you soon," she added just before Miranda ended the call.
"Everything is okay?" Emily asked.
"It is now," she said. "But before I go, I need you to help me pick out a new wardrobe for Miranda."
TBC….
A/N: I originally intended to split this one up into several chapters, but kind of just kept writing... thanks for reading! please r/r!