October 8, 1997 —

I can honestly say that I am happy. Since announcing our engagement and moving in with James in August, life has gotten exponentially better. I have a reason to leave the office every night, and cuddling next to the man I love has done wonders for my mood.

We found a home—a six-bedroom walk up on a quiet street a few blocks from Central Park. Closing is approaching at the end of November, and I have never been so excited for moving day. I never thought I'd be able to afford a home like this, but James is more than financially secure, I've learned, and he is so generous with me.

The September issue this year was a hit, and in order to finish the year strong, we need to secure some of the top designers from Paris Fashion Week, which runs the second week of December this year. There has been some restructuring at Elias-Clarke, namely to remove the Publishers entirely. If all goes well, I will be named the Editor in Chief of Runway at the next board meeting in January, a position I've earned with or without any favors.

Miranda woke on Wednesday morning feeling lousy. Between September and Paris, she hardly had time to take care of herself. Over the past few weeks, it seemed like whatever she ate upset her stomach, and not eating only led her to feel weak and dehydrated. James was a godsend, always making sure there were snacks like fruit and cheese around and encouraging her to take naps and get her rest, but over the past weekend he was out of town for work, and her well-being suffered the consequences.

As she was getting ready, she saw the box of tampons under the sink, next to the hair dryer, and couldn't remember the last time she was on her period. She quickly ran into the kitchen where she kept her pills, and after doing the math and confirming with the calendar, she realized she was late.

A sinking feeling passed through her as she thought of Richard Bannister. She did the math, and that was too long ago. Plus, she had gotten her period twice afterwards. It had to be James.

She finished her hair and makeup, and on the way to work, she stopped at the drugstore and bought an over-the-counter pregnancy test. As she rode to work in the taxi, she wondered what life would be like with a child. She already knew James wanted children, which was a relief, but she wasn't sure how his family would react. His mother was always going on about how Miranda wasn't Catholic, and how it was a sin for them to be living together. She could only imagine what she'd say if she learned they were going to have a baby when they weren't even married.

She tried to calm herself down. She wasn't sure she was pregnant yet. In fact, she may have had her period three weeks ago and just forgot. Or she might have been so stressed that it threw off her cycle. Plenty of explanations.

Of course, the first thing she did when she got to the office was head to her bathroom to take the test. The instructions seemed simple enough—she could hardly believe that at 38 years old, this was her first time taking a home pregnancy test. She followed the instructions carefully, and waited three excruciating minutes before checking the results. Positive.

After washing her hands, she walked out of her office and down the hall to see Nigel, shutting his office door behind her.

"Uh-oh. What's wrong?" he said, walking away from his art table.

"Nigel, I think—" she said, reaching up to dab at the tears forming in her eyes, "I'm pregnant."

He looked up and his eyes widened. He certainly wasn't expecting to hear those words from the editor's mouth. "Oh sweetie, that's wonderful! Are you sure?" he asked. He took her hands and led her over to sit in one of his chairs.

"I think so. I'll make an appointment this week with my doctor to confirm."

"Any idea how far along you are?" he asked.

Miranda rolled her eyes.

"Oh, right, now that you live with your fiancé you have so much sex you can't even keep track," he teased.

"Yes, exactly. But I would guess less than eight weeks. Oh god, I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"Yes you are. You are more than ready," he said. "Have you been feeling okay? No morning sickness or anything?"

"I don't know. I have been tired and nauseous, and I guess it's always in the morning, but I thought it was just stress or something I ate," she said as her hand traced her lower abdomen. "Listen, I want to wait to tell James until I know for sure. And actually," she said, standing up, "does it look like I'm showing to you?"

Nigel watched as she unbuttoned her suit jacket, and the added volume was slightly noticeable now that he knew what to look for. He shrugged, knowing any other answer would make her too self-conscious around the office. "You look fine, and my lips are sealed. You just tell me what you need from me, honey."

"Thanks," she said.

He hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her cheek before she left. As happy as he was for her and James, he was a little jealous that a baby was just one more thing taking his friend's attention away from him. Shaking his head, he went back to work.

On Friday morning, Miranda's doctor confirmed her very early pregnancy at four weeks, gave her some prenatal vitamins to start taking, and scheduled another appointment at eight weeks, where she would likely have an ultrasound.

That evening, James and Miranda had plans to meet for dinner in Brooklyn with some of his college buddies who were in town. She knew he wanted her to meet his friends, but tonight she wouldn't be able to enjoy the evening, and didn't want James to worry.

"I'm sorry but something has come up and I won't be able to make dinner tonight," she said.

"Aw, really? Is it work? Are you sure you can't sneak away for a tiny bit?" he pleaded.

"No, I can't. What about brunch tomorrow morning—when are they heading back?"

"Their flight is in the afternoon, so we can do something early, like 11?" he suggested.

"Yes, that's fine. Again, I'm sorry. I do want to meet these people who refer to you by your initials," she added. "I'll see you at home tonight?"

"Yeah, I might try to catch the game at a bar with them, so don't wait up for me," he said.

She gently bit her lip. She wanted him to come home at a normal time so she could tell him the news, but she knew anything she said now would cause him to worry. "Okay, I'll see you when you get home. I love you, Mr. Priestly."

"Love you, too, future Mrs. Priestly," he said, blowing a kiss into the phone before ending the call.

That evening, Miranda curled up in bed with a book as she waited for James to come home. Just after midnight, she woke when she heard the door open. Judging by how much noise he was making, it appeared that James had more than a few beers while he was out with his friends.

"Hi Miranda," he said, walking into the bedroom with a silly grin on his face.

She could smell the alcohol emanating from his clothes, and after a quick kiss, she sent him to shower and brush his teeth as she struggled to keep her nausea at bay. He returned a few minutes later, wearing a clean pair of boxers and smelling of shampoo. Turning out the light, he crawled into bed next to the woman and kissed her softly on the forehead.

"Work go okay?" he said.

"Yes. Did you have a good time?"

"Yep. Knicks won," he said. "I miss you, though. It's no fun riding home from Brooklyn on my own."

"What, don't tell me you were bored in the car?" she said.

"Come on, it was almost an hour, and I was so horny," he said, reaching down and pulling her on top of him.

Miranda realized he was too intoxicated tonight to break the news, so she decided she'd tell him in the morning. "Well I think I can make that up to you," she said, kissing him as she slipped off her panties.

The next morning, James woke to an empty bed and a headache. The curtains were pulled tight. On the nightstand, there was a bottle of Advil and a glass of water, so he took two before getting up and getting dressed.

Miranda was sitting on the couch in the living room with a cup of tea, reviewing some designs for next month's issue. Warm sunlight was pouring in through the windows and Miranda couldn't hide her grin.

James emerged from the bedroom and squinted. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Half past nine. There's coffee in the kitchen. Did you sleep okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, just had a few too many last night," he said.

Miranda chuckled and wrapped up what she was doing before tucking her work back into her bag.

James joined her on the couch with a cup of coffee and kissed her good morning. "You really make the best coffee," he said. "I'm spoiled."

She smiled and watched as he drank from the mug. With each sip, he woke a bit more, and when he finished the mug, she stood and went to the kitchen to empty the rest of the pot into his mug. Her doctor had advised her to limit her caffeine intake, and she made a pot of coffee this morning out of habit, without thinking.

Returning to the couch, she set his mug on the table and took a seat on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he mirrored the gesture and wrapped his arms around her waist. She kissed him, then laid her head on his shoulder.

"I love you James, you know that. I am so looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you, moving into our new house, getting married—I couldn't ask for anything more," she said.

He gently tilted her chin up and met her eyes, kissing her softly, but looking concerned. "I love you too, sweetheart, and I'm looking forward to all the same things as you," he said.

"Even starting a family?"

"Well, yes. We talked about this—"

"Good," Miranda said, interrupting him. "Because in about eight months, we're going to have that family." She gently bit her lip as she awaited his reaction.

"Wait, you—? Eight months…you're pregnant? We're going to have a baby?!" he asked with a smile, his hands on Miranda's hips.

She smiled and nodded, this time unable to prevent the tears from escaping her eyes.

"My god," he gasped. "That's amazing. You're—you're okay, right? I mean, this is good news, right?"

Miranda nodded and hugged him, kissing his cheek. "Yes, this is very good news. A little unexpected, but good," she said.

"Sweetie, why are you crying?" he asked after holding her for a few minutes.

"Hormones?" she chuckled. "No, actually I was so nervous to tell you. We hadn't planned this right now, and I thought—well, I just didn't know how you'd react."

"Oh, darling, I am over the moon. I can't wait for our little one to join our family, and for us to learn how to be parents. God, I love you," he said. "Are you excited?"

Miranda laughed and leaned her forehead against his. "I am, and a little nervous because it's all new to me, but I am beyond thrilled for this journey, and of course, starting a family with you," she said, kissing him. "But tell me, does this complicate things with your mother? I think she already hates me."

James laughed and hugged her tighter. "What she hated is that I waited so long to settle down, and that you and I didn't get married and have children right away. So that seems to have worked itself out."

Miranda took his hand and held it against her abdomen. "They say our baby is the size of a poppyseed right now," she said.

"It's amazing," he said. "When did you find out?"

"Yesterday morning—I realized I was late, and went to see my doctor. I wanted to tell you in person," she said.

"And I was too drunk last night," he said, rolling his eyes. "Will this be okay for you with work? I know you were hoping for that promotion in January."

"Yeah, it should be okay. I think I can conceal it for a while. I'll be in the second trimester by then, but I might not be showing too much. We'll have to play that by ear. It might make more sense for me to tell them in advance," she said.

"Would you want to get married sooner? Sometime before the end of the year?" he asked. "Just something small, a handful of close friends and family. Maybe out in East Hampton?"

"Mr. Priestly, are you volunteering to plan my wedding?" she said.

"Why, Mrs. Priestly, yes, I am. How do you feel about our anniversary?"

"Huh?"

"November 29th. When I quite literally swept you off your feet at the benefit. We could get married on the 29th, then we'd only have one anniversary to remember," he said.

"And you already have that memorized, so I'd say it's an excellent idea," she said, kissing him. "Can we keep it really small? If you want a Christian ceremony, I'm okay with that. I know we can't have a Catholic mass or anything, but I don't want anything big."

"I'll figure something out," he said. "Hey, we should get going if we still want to make it to brunch."

She looked over his shoulder at the clock on the wall and quickly jumped from his lap. "Oh right. Let me touch up my makeup, and then we can go," she said, heading down the hall.

"Wait," he said, running after her. He smiled and ran his hands down her shoulders, arms, and waist before pulling her close. "I love you, Miranda."

"I love you, too, but I really need to finish getting ready," she said, kissing him softly before heading back to the bathroom.