No Other Silly Girl Need Apply

By Gun Brooke

Part Eleven

"I have to go to Chicago for two nights." Miranda put her coffee mug down and regarded me with flat eyes.

"Oh, yeah? I mean, yes?" I tried to decipher why this would bring on such a somber tone and lifeless glance. I pulled out my notebook, but soon understood that this wasn't the correct move as Miranda glared at it.

"I'm not telling you as my assistant." She sounded affronted. "I'm letting you know as…as my…" Her voice trailed off and she flushed a lovely pink.

"As your girlfriend?" I filled in the word, taking pity on her.

"I suppose. Yes."

She supposed? God, this woman was a tight bundle of yarn sometimes. A yarn with snags, knots, and frail parts that could snap at any given moment if I wasn't careful. I often compared coexisting with Miranda like navigating a minefield, but the yarn analogy was just as apt. "So, you'll be gone for a couple of nights and I will miss you a lot, but then you'll be home."

"You don't understand." Looking frustrated now, Miranda sipped from the mug again, swallowing the searing hot beverage without even blinking. "This is a business trip, but one where bringing an assistant isn't warranted. I still want you to come."

Oh, this was different. My mind went into deciphering-Miranda-overload. "You want me to come, but you're apprehensive about bringing me as your guest. Hm. But if it'll be problematic for you, why don't I stay home. It's only two days." I ventured a quick caress along her jawline with my fingertips. Even if we tore up the sheets in bed, touching her in passing, like a real girlfriend does, was still not something that came naturally.

"Use your head, or what's left of it, Andrea." She placed her mug on the kitchen counter with a worrisome cracking sound and glared at me with darkening eyes. "What if your test results come back and I'm not here?"

Ah. Okay. The yarn unraveled and my sluggish-early-morning-brain kicked in. Gearing it up a few notches, I took Miranda's hand. I could tell she was torn between yanking it free and pulling me closer. I made the decision for her as I stood and wrapped my free arm around her waist. "I would love to come with you to Chicago. Not only to be with you if my results come in, but because I want to be where you are. Sound pretty clingy, huh?" I tried to smile self-deprecatingly. Not sure it was a smile at all since my lips trembled. How did I go from trying to reassure Miranda to being needy?

"I see." The words came out short-cropped, but with tenderness lurking behind them. Her eyes had softened to a gentle blue-gray, a nuance I'd come to associate with what I thought was the genuine Miranda. "Not clingy at all. At least, no more than my wish for you to join me. Do you understand that if you come, we would have to be discreet?"

"Of course." I frowned. Did she really think I'd be careless, like tattooing her name on my arms or something? "I wouldn't be demonstrative if that's what you mean."

"No. No. Naturally, you're far too…too…"

Meek? I was a little angry now, but tried to hide it. "As much as I want to be with you, I don't want you to feel you can't leave me by myself out of some misguided sense of duty." The words were wrong, and they would ignite her as soon as they were out of my mouth.

"Did you just say misguided sense of duty?" Miranda's lips were a thin line now and she looked like boss-Miranda, witch-on-wheels, rather than the Miranda whose bed I shared. Perhaps not much longer, judging from the way her blue eyes turned to opaque marbles.

"I didn't mean—"

"Yes you did. Somehow, in that little head of yours, your synapses construed something, or misconstrued, for all I know, something I said. Here I am trying to figure out a way to bring you to Chicago because I worry about you—and you—you accuse me of being misguided."

"And you accuse me of not even having half a brain cell," I said, my own ire irrepressible now.

"How you can you possibly interpret anything I said to mean that, I have no idea." Miranda squared her shoulders and laced her fingers hard together. "I'm waiting for you to enlighten me."

I had started to feel guilty for overreacting and then she had to say something in that superior voice of her, so sure she was infallible, it drove me right up the wall. "Why should I bother?" I asked through clenched teeth. "You're so perfect and know everything anyway, and so damn sure you're always right, why would a lowly half-a-brain-cell kind of person ever have anything to add to enlighten you?"

Miranda's eyes reduced to narrow slits as she tilted her head. "Let's back up this conversation since it's leading to nothing but mayhem if it progresses any further."

I could tell she was trying to recall our words and no doubt she would soon be more certain than before that she was right, I was wrong, and now she'd toss me out on my ears. I hated the gloom that had lowered itself around me like a soggy, cold blanket.

"Everything was all right until I asked you if you understood about the importance of discretion." Tapping her lower lip, Miranda kept going. "Then you snapped at me and I didn't stop to think, but answered back in the same manner." Miranda rose to cup my chin. "Guess I'm not used to our equality. I talk a good game, but—I slip into our old roles, don't I?"

I stared. No, even more so, I gaped at her. If there was one thing I certainly wasn't used to, it was Miranda considering she could be in the wrong. Time for me to step up. "I'm sorry I was so testy." Placing my hand on top of hers, I blinked at the burning sensation behind my eyelids.

"We're still trying to navigate these unknown waters," Miranda said and managed to sound rather flippant. Her once again radiant blue eyes spoke contradicted this. "I apologize." Her voice was low, but the words unmistakable and honest. "I do worry about scaring you off." She pressed her fingertips on one hand to her temple and kept her other hand on my shoulder. The touch warmed through my shirt and the tormented look on her face, as if she was developing a headache or something, made it easy for me to pull her in between my legs where I sat on the tall breakfast nook stool.

"You're right. We're navigating," I said and kissed her other temple. "And I seem to do it pretty badly, to boot." I moved my hands up and down her back, careful not to wrinkle her silk blouse. She was trembling and required more damage control. "I want to come with you. I'm aware how discreet we have to be and if that means my hiding in the hotel room the entire time, so be it. Staying here on my own is not appealing. Not when I can be with you."

Miranda relaxed little by little until she leaned fully against me. Her scent did its famous wrap-around-Andy move, something that made me start to tremble, but for a whole different reason.

"You've become so important to me, Andrea," Miranda murmured into my hair. "It's not something I'd ever believed would happen, nor had I ever imagined being attractive to someone could be this frightening. It's as if I hold my breath around you half the time and then I forget to exhale and—" She shrugged. "I don't particularly enjoy being afraid."

"Me either." I moved my fingers with great caution into her hair, not mussing it or destroying her iconic do, merely holding her in place so she would look me in the eyes. "I'm afraid of losing you too. There are a million reasons why this can go wrong from you end as well. Your children, your work, your status in society, your—"

"Stop." Miranda placed her fingertips against my lips. "Yes, I know all that. All potential bomb scares that can screw things up. Try to focus on the part of me that is the most important for this to…to work. I'll do the same." She kissed me lightly. "Focus on my heart."

It was my turn to lose my ability to inhale and exhale or even grasp simple things as remaining upright on the stool. As I started to slip sideways, Miranda wrapped her arms around me and held me in a firm embrace. She was so fucking amazing. We had yet to say the words, the real words, but offering up her heart, she all but hinted at it.

"Yes, please. Focus on my heart." I took one of her hands and pressed it in between my breasts. "It's right here."

"Good to know," Miranda whispered.

We stood and sat there for a few minutes, or that's what I estimate in retrospect, and then we untangled and got ready for work. I walked behind her out to the town car where Roy held the door open for Miranda. As I rounded the vehicle, he was suddenly at that door, holding it up for me as well. I blinked in surprise, and at how fast he moved, and thanked him.

Even Roy seemed to be aware of the changed status between Miranda and me.

xxxXXXxxx

The phone rang and I answered, expecting it to be Nigel, wanting me to do yet another favor for him as his own assistant was ill and Emily was not in the building. I didn't even look at the display and jumped when it turned out to be my mother saying, "Finally you answer your phone, Andy."

I grew rigid and pushed the chair back to stand up and leave the outer office. That's when it dawned on me that Moira was on her break and I had to man the other phones. "Hi, mom." I crossed my fingers and tucked them in under my thigh.

"Why haven't you returned any or our calls?" My mother spoke in succinct, choppy syllables, a true sign she wasn't happy. "Is that too much, you think, for a daughter to do?"

"I have worked a lot," I said, my voice annoyingly weak. "And I've emailed you several times."

"Emailed? So that's what we get now. Emails. I need to hear your voice every so often. Your father has been worried sick—"

"Dad's ill?" I asked, my back going ramrod straight. "What's wrong?"

"No, no, not ill that way. You've worried him enough to give him migraines and his gastritis is acting up."

So I was to blame because my father had migraines and stomach issues. My own stomach rolled and I tried to figure out the best way to end the conversation. As it turned out, mom had other ideas.

"We decided to come for a visit. I have to make sure you're not lying to us."

"About what?" Her words shocked me to the core.

"You have acted strangely ever since Nate left you, which must have been devastating for you. The fact that he's so happy now must sting even more."

"I don't care about that. I mean, I care that he's happy, that's a good thing, but I'm happy as well." The words left my lips before I had time to edit them. I had just meant to stop my mother to go on her usual 'poor you who lost Nate' rampage.

"You are?" She sounded dumbfounded, which wasn't very flattering. Was I this much of a failure in her eyes, that my finding some happiness was that unfathomable to my own mother?

"Yes."

"You've met another boy? A man?"

"No. I don't have a boyfriend. I'm still happy."

"Oh, Andy," the enormous pity in my mother's voice made me so angry. "You have to tell yourself that, I understand. It's good to keep your spirits up, but it must be so lonely in that cold, big city."

As a matter of fact, it had been cold and lonely until everything changed with Miranda—it was anything but. Still it peeved me that my mother in a sense was right, even if she still got it all wrong.

"No matter what, I'm happy, I'm doing fine, and I'm extremely busy. I can't take private calls during work hours, so we'll have to talk more some other time." I realized this would not go down well.

"But we have to plan for our visit." Mom raised her voice. "Andy!"

"I'm off on a business trip soon, but after that we can talk about it." I was merely postponing this issue, but there was no way I would have my parents descend on me when everything else was hanging in the balance.

"A business trip—where to—"

"Hey, got to go, mom. Give dad my best. Tell him I hope he feels better." I had a brilliant idea, or so I thought. "He should be in better shape before he flies anyway. Bye, mom. Love you." I hung up after barely listening to her saying an irritated good bye.

I put the cell phone down, ever so carefully, as if it were an explosive device ready to go off. Taking a deep breath, and then another one, I wondered how much of my end of the conversation Miranda had overheard. As I glanced up, I saw her standing in the doorway, a frown marring her forehead.

"Are you all right?" She held on to the doorframe and quite hard too since her fingertips were white.

"Yes. Just my mother trying to run my life as usual."

"She was under the impression you have a new boyfriend." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I told her I don't." I had to smile. "I wonder what she'd have said if I told her I have a girl—" Stopping there, I bit my lip. Me and my big mouth.

"A girlfriend?" Miranda whispered. "Is that what we are?"

I wasn't sure if the prospect, or the term, met with her approval or not. Digging for courage, I nodded. "Yes. I would like to think so."

Miranda mulled this over and the office was suddenly without any other sounds than the thundering heart in my chest. It pounded in my ears and I wiped my damp palms against my trousers, out of sight of Miranda.

"Yes. You're right, as immature as the term might be."

"There are other terms that fit." I don't know where I found the courage, but I kept going, whispering as well. "Lover. Mistress."

Miranda's eyes grew wide and her glance flickered to the closed door to the corridor. "I like the connotation of the previous better," she murmured and ran her hand up and down the door frame in a slow caress. "Lover."

And now I couldn't care less how mother tried to run my life, or how her words had upset me. I saw nothing but Miranda, standing there with the light from her office windows illuminating her hair. Her hand moved up and down still and it was mesmerizing. Her murmur echoed in my mind. 'Lover.' She liked 'lover.'

So did I.