Chapter Ten - Epilogue

September - New York, New York

In June, Miranda invited the girls up to the secluded cabin for the weekend, so she could introduce them to their brother. They didn't seem as confused as she thought they would be about the baby. In fact, they were slightly more confused about her relationship with Andrea than anything. James was less than pleased that Miranda was so upfront with their children, but there was little he could do. He had promised to be supportive, even if that meant turning a blind eye to his ex-wife's personal affairs.

When Caleb was three months old, she and Andrea returned to New York. They didn't take the baby out of the house much, and if they did, Andrea or Cara or the girls were always with them. Somehow, the paparazzi never thought them interesting enough to photograph, so there was no speculation at all about her sabbatical—or about the little baby boy.

She had the baby's birth certificate corrected to list Miranda Priestly and Stephen Tomlinson as the parents, and vowed to tell Stephen the truth if he ever asked. Chances were slim, though, as she had heard he moved to the Cayman Islands to live with his newest girlfriend.

Miranda's publisher loved the manuscript draft she submitted—an advice book for how to make it in fashion, with a working title of From the Lips of the Devil: How to win over the fashion world. Miranda was disappointed that the book itself was nothing extraordinary, just some common sense advice. Regardless, her publisher was convinced it would be a bestseller.

Andrea was making a successful career for herself in freelance. She earned a few regular assignments at The Atlantic, and she was even nominated for a few awards.

"Andrea," Miranda called in a sing-song voice. "Are you almost finished?"

The young woman closed her laptop and smiled, looking up to see the woman standing in the doorway.

"Andrea, darling," she said, "we have the house to ourselves tonight. James just picked up the girls, and Caleb is asleep."

The young woman approached and wrapped her arms around her waist, laying her head on her shoulder as she softly nuzzled her neck. "It seems like ages ago when we were up in the middle of nowhere, doesn't it?"

"It does, darling. And I don't know why we didn't take advantage of the peace and quiet while we had it."

Andrea smiled. "I can't believe you have to go back work in a few weeks."

"I know. Darling, I was thinking, maybe tonight—" she pulled back and met the young woman's eyes.

Andrea's eyes widened and she smiled. "Miranda, that sounds—"

"Shut up. Just, shut up," she said, pushing her out of the room and towards the bedroom.

They stumbled into the bedroom. While Miranda shut the door, Andrea climbed onto the bed. Miranda was right behind her, reaching for Andrea's shirt and pulling it off over her head. She pushed her back into the mattress and kissed her ferociously.

Andrea broken the kiss and reached down to unbutton her jeans. While she wiggled them off, Miranda began unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside, quickly stepping out of her skirt until she was just in her underwear and a silk camisole. Andrea pulled her down and guided her hand between her legs.

Miranda had brought the young woman to pleasure before, and knowing what she liked, it didn't take much to send her over the edge. Miranda laid on her side, gently stroking the young woman's body as she recovered from her orgasm.

Several minutes later, Andrea turned to the woman and gently cupped her cheek. "Talk to me, okay? Tell me what feels good or what doesn't—can you do that?"

Miranda nodded and kissed her gently. "I'm nervous. What if I can't—or if I don't feel anything?"

Andrea wrapped her arm around the woman and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "It's okay, it's just me. You are such an incredibly beautiful woman, and I love you so much already—none of this matters at the end of the day," she said, tucking the woman's hair behind her ear. "I want to make you feel good, so you tell me what that is. It doesn't have to be about sex," she reminded her.

The older woman covered her eyes with her hand. "I don't think I can do this. I'm sorry."

"My god, I love you," Andrea whispered as she kissed her forehead, her cheek, her chin, her neck. She continued trailing kisses down her body, pausing to suck on her nipples through the silk camisole. She continued moving down her body, pressing kisses to her hip, her thigh, the inside of her knee, and the top of her foot. "Miranda," she whispered, slowly making her way back up the other side of her body. With her lips on the inside of the woman's thigh, she looked up and met her eyes, seeking permission to go further.

Miranda nodded and reached down to slip her lacy underwear off. She spread her legs a little wider so Andrea could comfortably fit between and she gasped when she felt the woman's lips against her flesh, kissing her so intimately.

Andrea was surprised to find Miranda so wet, but regardless, she kept things gentle until she could gauge the other woman's reaction.

Miranda was generally quiet whenever they were intimate, and this was no different. Andrea pulled away and crawled up, pressing her lips to Miranda's. A moan escaped the editor's lips as she tasted her own juices on the young woman.

"Oh, Andrea," she gasped.

"Did that feel good?" the young woman asked.

Miranda nodded. "More," she whispered.

Andrea smiled and crawled back down, this time using her fingers to apply pressure in a circular motion to the woman's clitoris.

Miranda's eyes were closed and her back was arched as her body erupted with little gasps and quiet moans. After a while, she relaxed into the mattress and turned to her side, burying her face in a pillow.

"Are you okay?"

The woman nodded, but it was clear she was crying.

Andrea crawled up behind her and held her, softly kissing her neck and whispering reassurances.

Miranda turned around to face her, taking her face between her two hands. "That was—you are incredible," she said, kissing her. "I've never experienced anything like that. I don't know if it's because you're you or a result of the surgery or what, but it was overwhelming and just—" She paused and shook her head. "I cannot imagine my life without you. I've never felt that way about someone before—not even my own children. I can't imagine where I'd be if you hadn't suggested this sabbatical."

Andrea smiled and kissed her. "Well, lucky for you, you don't have to worry about that."

.

.

The end.

A/N: In 2016, I've been trying to live by this whole mentality of #finishwhatyoustart, and unfinished pieces of writing on my computer are not exempt! Please let me know what you think of this one-love it or hate it!