My hold on the phone tightens, I am unsure how to respond. This is new, unfamiliar territory.
I found it, was whispered in her soft melodic voice.
I swallowed hard as I stood; my palms had become sweaty. I hoped I misheard.
"I shouldn't have read it but I did. I...I believed in you, in us. You were always worried that it would be me. When I should have been the one afraid. I should have been worried. Why? You said I was enough," her voice began to shake.
It's a sign that I have come to recognize through our three years together as anger. She's not a screamer contrary to popular belief, that's me.
"You are more than enough. It isn't you. I..." for the first time in years I was at a loss for words and merely looked around the room frantic unsure of what her next move would be. This scared me the most had the situation been reversed, I know what I would have done. The Dragon would have awoken and I would have engulfed my beloved in flames.
I hear Andrea sobbing on the other end and my heart clinches.
I refuse to apologize for what I did. It would be a lie and I agreed never to lie to her. Withhold, omit certain details, of course. But I wouldn't tell half-truths and falsities. I left that to my ex-husbands.
But what I am to tell Andrea, that I cheated and with Irv, of all creatures, to secure my position as Editor and Chief, of what, a fashion magazine? To keep the hounds disguised as board members off my back while I reign over the empire I built?
I won't let them take Runway. Not after everything I have given. I have scarified marriages, recitals, play dates and a second pregnancy at its alter.
I am beyond reason; I would burn Runway to the ground before I watch another, a woman of inferior taste, ascend to the throne.
Six months ago, I found myself on the chopping block, again. I thought Irv had left his schemes in Paris after I out maneuvered him.
But I underestimated him; that has never happened before.
For the past 20 years, he has been as predictable as the monotone, too large, off the rack Brooks Brothers suits he wears. But I was distracted by my happiness with Andrea and the forgiveness I received from my girls. They made it too easy to forget that I had more to live for than the glossy pages of too thin coked out models and shallow photographers. That happiness made me weak vulnerable to attack.
That's how Irv found the holes in the fortress. So he planned, recruiting thought to be allies and old foes. Then he began his assault, with James Holt International officially no more, Jacqueline Follet was back and battle ready. Her swords were sharp and her henchmen were the picture of devotion willing to invade at command. The French woman was blood thirsty and out for revenge. It was, after all, at my recommendation that she boarded a ship that I knew was destined to sink.
With Follet as his general and leading the charge, Irv had me backed into a corner. My own troops were scattered, Serena, back in her home country living out her dream of running her own boutique and small magazine, Emily blinded by love followed behind the long legged Brazilian, and Nigel, still wounded from Paris, refused to take to the battlefield on my behalf. Any others that remained would only watch from the sidelines claiming neutrality.
Therefore, I stood alone, but not without options. One thing I could count on was Irv's desire for me, and I used it.
My efforts had the intended outcome but I took no pleasure in the after hours in his apartment nor the feeling of his grubby hands over my body; I shudder at the memory.
"Miranda!" She is screaming now, I've never heard her raise her voice not to this level, and I cringe at my ability to do this to people; to make them change, destroy them from the inside.
"Andrea, I'm...sorry you had to read that but you shouldn't have went through my things."
I stand up a little straighter my tone sharp but my face betrays me. A furrowed brow and the way I gnaw on my bottom lip reflect the confidence I lack. Truth of the matter, I am worried; I don't want her to leave but I won't apologize nor make excuses because I would do it again. I would do anything to protect us.
"That's all you have to say? Unbelievable," she hissed into the phone.
I hear pacing and I glance at my watch noting that I only have thirty minutes before I am due at Valentino's.
"Andrea," I begin in a soft tone. She's quiet but I don't hear a dial tone so I know she hasn't hung up, at least not yet. My only objective was to calm her enough so she would stay put just until I returned to New York.
I did the only thing I knew would work.
"My love, the baby. Please don't be angry. It upsets the baby. I would know, you have to be calm, and when I return we will talk."
I made it about the baby; it's a new low even by my standards but I am not incorrect. Yes, being six and a half months pregnant and upset will put stress on the baby. I should know. But was I a monster to use the fragility of this most magical moment to my advantage? I am still madly in love with her, that hasn't changed.
No reply and I use the silence to put on my heels.
More sniffles.
"Ok, but we will talk about this, and when you return to New York, don't come here."
I sighed slowly, I didn't want my annoyance to show even with Fernando at the wheel I would still be eight minutes late.
"I understand," I spoke quietly.
The line goes dead and I huff in relief nearly dropping the cell in my purse as I head for the door.
For three days, it's radio silence from Andrea.
The girls' have texted non-stop hounding me with questions. I can't answer them. I can't have them realize that this time it truly is my fault.
I slept with him one last time before ending it.
He was angry threatening to tell Andrea but when I showed him the photos of he and I he acquiesced agreeing to leave my kingdom in peace and call back his troops. He paused in the door way of the bedroom he looked rather hurt before removing himself from my presence.
I stare at the photos long after he leaves the hotel room, the private investigator I hired did a wonderful job being sure to capture moments that look rather forced, if I must say. From the angles, it was easy to argue that I was a woman being taken against her will and due to my pride and the power of the man in question, I was too afraid to report him. The "Me Too" movement borne out of Black women declaring their voices be heard would serve me well if I needed to tread those waters.
I close the file and place it deep in my bag. Once back in New York, my first stop would be my safety deposit boxes.
I laugh, its deep, hearty the kind I only let slip when I am with Andrea and my girls, Nigel stares at me for a moment before he quickly returns to his laptop. He rarely speaks when around; limiting his time in my presence to only when necessary.
With Nigel, I have yet to make amends.
Feelings of guilt I have for betraying a friend is temporary. I won't let the past sully this win. But the high of victory leaves as quickly as it came, as I am reminded that I am not returning home to an adoring wife but an emotional mess.
We land everyone dispersing to grab their luggage.
As a show of good will, I decide to give everyone the evening off.
I check my phone, nothing and stare out the window as Roy navigates traffic with ease getting me from the airport to downtown Manhattan in record time. The banker is waiting and guides me to the vault where the boxes are stored. I take the envelope with the photos and place it in 1603. Fifteen minutes later, I was placing the second envelope of negatives in box 1201 at a different bank. I had come too far to be reckless.
I have Roy drop me off at the Ritz, if he is shocked he doesn't let it show and he smoothly guides the car into traffic after bidding me good night.
No answer.
I call again, nothing. I repeat this cycle for nine minutes before giving up and tossing the device beside me. Minutes later the screen flashes with a text message from Andrea.
It was long and angry; I couldn't help but read it more than once each time gnawed at my heart a little more. I had no response and could only reply with another I'm so sorry for hurting you and forgive me.
I would do anything and everything to see this, to see us through to the end. I needed her to understand what I did was for us, not just me; the power I wield extends to her as well. I let her know that I will stop by the townhouse tomorrow.
Ok, was her only reply.
I don't sleep well, more strange sheets and I am reminded I don't like going to bed without her.
I watch the darkness shift into day and decide lying around all morning is pointless even if it's a Saturday. I dress in record time and head down to the lobby. I extend my stay at the hotel another three days, just in case, and I have the doorman hail a cab.
In the backseat, I text letting her know that I am on the way.
She stares at me from across the center isle, eyes red rimmed her gorgeous chestnut hair pulled back in a pony tail. I finger the cup of coffee that has grown cold. I'm uncomfortable, I'm accustomed to being on the other side.
"Andrea, I know you are hurt."
She rolls her eyes and makes a move to stand. I hold out my hand stopping her.
"Please hear me out."
She sighs heavily.
"Go on."
"This isn't an excuse but things were happening behind the scenes at Elias-Clark and I didn't know who to trust, where to turn. This thing, this affair if you must call it, was nothing it really wasn't." My eyes are pleading.
She looks affronted, "me, Miranda. You were supposed to turn to me, I am the person you can trust." I could tell she was hurt all over again.
"Every time something went down at work you were the first one I called. I didn't run to Nigel or Doug. I came straight home to you. That's what you should have done."
Out of habit, I wave my hand nonchalant, "this isn't drama over a by-line at some second rate rag Andr-," I regret the flippant remark and clamp my hand over my mouth before I had completely uttered her name.
"Fuck you. I see now, just because you insult people all day and induce eating disorders that somehow what you do is more important. Because you make more money doesn't give you the right to shit on what I do. I thought this was a marriage of equals, clearly I was under the wrong impression. I am so stupid, all that bullshit you have been feeding me over the years about no one seeing the real you."
She places her hands on her face and I know she is trying not to cry.
"I didn't mean to offend you dear. That came out so wrong but you won't understand the gravity of the situation I was in at the time. My dear," I stand and move to walk around the counter to her. She held up her hand and stood.
"Don't. I want you out, now." She growled her voice low in her throat as she rubbed her belly.
I left in silence; my heart is torn to shreds by what I have caused but I refuse to beg.
Back at the hotel, I text reiterating my apology. I have flowers sent over, an hour later I receive a text its a picture of them in the trash.
My phones chimes this time it's Caroline.
WHAT DID YOU DO?
I place the phone face down; I don't have the words to explain, and I question even if I should. Another chime, this time Cassidy.
Mom is upset, Mummy what's going on? She won't stop crying, and she won't tell me and Caro anything.
I head to the bathroom, hoping a shower will calm my nerves as I run through ideas. I stare at the person in the mirror. The mascara is ruined creating black circles under my lower lids; I don't remember crying.
The water on my back is scalding, but I refuse to adjust the settings. I think back to our wedding day and the feeling I had of never wanting to be apart from this woman. Twenty minutes later, I fall into bed; due to mental exhaustion sleeps comes quickly.
I wake to find more texts from the girls.
Caroline's are increasingly angry, Cassidy's have grown frantic near the point of hysteria. I respond to them both; my responses are vague and I hope it's enough. I send one to Andrea as well letting her know that she was on my mind and that I still loved her, the girls, and our son.
No response from any of the women in my life.
The weekend passes in a haze and Sunday night I review the book twice out of boredom. Before I know it 4am rolls around, and I stare at the phone, my finger hovers over Ashley's name; a part of me wants to call off and head to the townhouse and beg for forgiveness from the one person that saw me at my lowest and didn't run.
The warlord in me wants to suit up and parade around the battlefield head high, a show to all I had won the war. I decide against such theatrics and send a quick text to Ashley letting her know to cancel today and tomorrow.
I phone Andrea, I am uneasy.
She answers, I am caught off guard before my mind kicks into gear.
"Please love, don't hang up."
"You have three minutes."
"I am sorry, I really am."
"Two minutes."
"Please you have to give me more time." I pause looking for the right words, "Andrea, I...I have a lot to tell you, can I come over? I don't want to discuss this over the phone."
Silence.
"I don't want to hear excuses."
"You won't because I don't have any but maybe I can shed light on everything. Because what took place isn't what you think."
She sighs, "I'll come to you, the girls are here. They didn't go to school today."
"Ok, I'll have Roy pick you up."
"Where are you? I'll catch a cab." The line goes dead before I have time to protest, I send her the name of the hotel and I send Roy anyway with strict instructions not to let Andrea anywhere near the street.
I have room service bring food.
After completing my usual morning routine, I get dressed and wait. I receive confirmation from Roy that after much protesting he was able to get Andrea in the car and the two are on their way, and thirty minutes later she is in front of me.
"Where do I start?" My voice shakes as I absentmindedly unfold a napkin.
"The beginning would be nice." She crosses her arms, angry, her bag is still on her shoulder.
I take a deep breath, "what you found was a log. I needed to keep details, dates, locations, dinners just in case." I stop looking up from the untouched plate of fruit in front of me.
"I don't follow."
"I needed it because of Irv. He is the one, those details were about him."
Her eyes grow wide, "did he force himself on you?" She's leaning in now her eyes soft.
I look away, do I go further? Do I let her believe that Irv is the devil that he is? Or do I confess, tell her that I am the one that initiated the first encounter? Do I disclose my plan? The photos? I decide to be honest, I open my mouth to state otherwise, but she cuts me off.
"That asshole. Miranda I am the one that's sorry. I should have," she reaches across the table for me. I close in the distance grabbing her hands.
"I should have known something was amiss the distance, the...coldness. I should have sensed something was off." She squeezes harder.
"I have a detective friend, we can go to him let him know what Irv did. He's discreet, no one will have to know its you. How many times was it? From..." she trails off looking down. My love is embarrassed, "what you wrote it was at least eight times. Did he hurt you? Bruises? I know there were times that you wouldn't let me touch you. Was it because of him?"
Her eyes are doe like again. My Andrea is back; I am no longer the focus of her anger, and I'm relieved, my cheeks are wet now and I look away before breaking down.
"Miranda, please."
Continuing to hold my hand she makes her way around the table and kneels awkwardly beside me.
"He won't get away with this. Is he still..." she trailed off unsure what to call this perceived thing with Irv and I.
"No, it's over. Andrea, I can't. I can't and stay at Runway. I...the fallout from all of this would destroy me. I couldn't bear it." It's true I couldn't; the press would have a field day if word got out.
I have no choice but to continue with this ruse; playing Irv's victim. Before I have time to fully process the change of events, I am engulfed in her arms.
"Miranda, I understand and I am truly sorry for accusing you. I should have known better." She pulls back to look at me, "can you ever forgive me? I just wish you felt safe enough to tell me that he was...hurting you." She caresses my shoulders.
I have no words and only nod in response. Andrea is on my side; all is right with the world.