Early May - Somewhere in the Poconos, New York
"Andrea? …Andrea? Can you please—oh, never mind!"
"What? What's wrong?" Andrea said, sprinting up the stairs to Miranda's room. "I thought you were going to sleep?"
Miranda sat on the edge of the bed looking supremely annoyed. "I was. And I got all comfortable, and then couldn't reach the light. And you weren't even around, so," she paused and huffed, "I had to get up."
"Okay, I will take care of the light. You can lie back down."
Miranda groaned and turned back against the pillows.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked, softly brushing her hand along the woman's arm. "Want me to rub your back a little?"
"Mmm, if you wouldn't mind?"
Andrea smiled and climbed up on the other side of the bed and began gently kneading the woman's muscles through the thin silk nightgown.
The next morning, Andrea woke up and opened her eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Miranda was snoring lightly, so she knew the editor hadn't woken yet. She slowly pulled her hand away from its place on the woman's hip, and she carefully climbed out of bed, tiptoeing downstairs to start some coffee.
She wasn't sure how she had fallen asleep like that—or more importantly, how Miranda had allowed her to. Regardless, the woman would be none the wiser.
About an hour later, Miranda came downstairs in her robe and sleepily sat at the kitchen table.
"Good morning," Andrea said. "Juice and yogurt?"
Miranda nodded. "What time did you get up?"
"Oh, about an hour ago."
"I was sleeping so wonderfully—if I hadn't needed to get up and pee, I could have slept another six hours!" she said. "I think your magic fingers will need to be a part of my evening ritual."
Andrea nearly spit out her coffee. "Ma—magic? Me? No, I'm sure your body was just relaxed and needed the rest."
"But I was relaxed because of that massage. It even put the baby to sleep," she added. "Whatever you did last night, I want that every night."
"I'll see what I can do," Andrea said, setting a glass of juice and bowl of yogurt, berries, and granola down in front of her.
Later that day, Miranda was sitting out on the patio in a lounge chair, thumbing through a magazine while Andrea was working on a freelance assignment she picked up for a small community blog.
Miranda couldn't stop thinking about the baby, and about how difficult it would be to give the baby up, knowing she would never see him again. She wouldn't be there to see his first steps or to kiss his boo-boos. She wouldn't be there for any of that, because that would be long to his new mother, who deserved to raise him without interference.
She sighed and set the magazine down as she laid back on the chair, thinking about how she came to be here, in this place, in these circumstances.
When she took the pregnancy test at home one night, she remembered crying and not knowing why. She didn't want to have Stephen's child, but it had been so difficult for her to conceive and carry a pregnancy to term, she figured she would miscarry this one, too. That way, she wouldn't even have to tell him. The following week in Paris, she was surprised she hadn't started bleeding yet. Surely, this pregnancy would not go to term. She made the appointment with the clinic during Paris Fashion Week, after spending a considerable amount of time on the bathroom floor, retching into the toilet.
There, they confirmed her pregnancy with a blood test, and explained that termination would be very simple—two pills taken several hours apart, with light cramping. She left the office with the pills, but threw them in a trash bin just outside the office. Then, when she returned to the hotel, the concierge handed her an envelope containing the divorce papers.
The divorce would be a media circus, but the alternative—telling Stephen about the baby and asking him to stay—was practically unimaginable. She was desperate, and when Andrea suggested a sabbatical, it just made sense.
She should have taken those last few weeks before the new year to think it through, but instead, she spent the time with her daughters, with Runway, and doing everything in her power to distract herself from the decision. Now, seven months in, there was no turning back.
"Miranda?"
"Hmm?" she said, turning to look up at the young woman.
"I asked if there was anything you wanted from the kitchen," she said.
"Oh, um, a glass of lemonade if you're going in."
Andrea returned a few minutes later with a Diet Coke for herself and a glass of lemonade for Miranda in an insulated tumbler with a straw and lid, exactly as Miranda likes it. "You were lost in thought before—everything okay?" she asked quietly.
Miranda looked up a the young woman, not sure where she got her boldness, but secretly wanting to let it all out. "I have a lot on my mind. I'm sure you don't care with the details," she said. It was a completely natural response from Miranda Priestly, but one she hoped Andrea would challenge.
"I know it's not my place," Andrea said, "but I do care about the details. I can see not wanting to talk to your assistant about it, but I also know that you don't have anyone else right now. You already know you can trust me," she added.
Miranda sighed and turned to face the other woman. "I don't think I can give this baby up," she said.
Andrea's eyes widened and she walked over and sat down on the side of Miranda's chair. "Wow, um, okay. Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, reaching out for the woman's hands.
Miranda squeezed her hands tightly and shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I've been such a fool, but I can't exactly tell the truth now. The press would have a field day, and my daughters…I don't know if my daughters could ever forgive me. And then when Stephen learns, he'd want a paternity test. Oh, Andrea," she cried, bringing her hand up to cover her face.
"Shhh, it's going to be okay. We'll figure something out," Andrea said, holding her hand tightly and gently holding her shoulder.
"I love my daughters and would never want to hurt them, but I don't see how I can do this without hurting them," she said.
"We'll figure something out. We have time," she reassured. "We'll figure it out, even if you have to say it was my baby that you're adopting!"
"You would do that?"
"If you thought it could help—of course."
"Andrea, sometimes I think you are too good to me."
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TBC - reviews make me post faster, haha!