I stared at my cell phone where it sat on the kitchen island, as if it was a cobra, ready to pounce on my carotid. I had eyed it for a good five minutes now and knew there would never be a better time to call my parents than now. The girls were in their rooms, both of them hooked up to Daltons digitally. Miranda was in her study, in a Zoom call. I should have been there to take notes, but she assured me she was entirely capable of handling a pencil. This gave me pause, as I had never seen her with a pencil and notepad ever since I started at Runway.

Warily, I plucked my cell from the counter and pulled up my mother's number. Glancing out toward the den and the hallway, I found them empty. I had no more excuses.

Pressing Mom's tiny photo on the screen, I was taken aback at how fast she answered.

"Andy!" Mom gushed.

"Hi. Sorry, it took me a while to get back to you." I infused lightheartedness in my voice, but I was fairly sure I wasn't fooling her."

"Your father's listening in." Mom spoke rapidly. "What is going on at your work, Andrea? What are your injuries? When can we come and collect you?"

I was stunned that she used my full name, and with the completely wrong infliction, but looked at my short notes, written on Post-its on the counter. "What have you read and heard? Just tell me that and I'll let you know the facts afterward."

"Your boss's husband tried to kill you. That's pretty cut and dry," Mom said and I heard Dad hum in the background.

"First of all. Ex-husband. And he didn't try to kill me. He pushed me, and I nearly fell. In the commotion, I dropped a tray of hot coffee and it ended up on my hand, and on his legs." I sighed, holding my breath for the barrage of questions and opinions I knew was coming.

"He might have killed you if you'd fallen and hit your head on the pavement." Mom sounded more angry than worried. I had to stop a slightly hysterical guffaw from escaping as she paraphrased Miranda from my early Runway days without knowing it.

"I suppose, but that was hardly his intention. That said, he's being charged with a multitude of crimes, where the assault on me is just one of them."

"It's all pure insanity. Now's the time for you to make the smart decision, Andy," Dad said, his voice harsh. "You need to be with your family now. The ones who truly love you and who can protect you."

I shook my head no, even if neither of them could see it. "No, Dad. That's never going to happen. I might come to visit you later, perhaps after the holidays, but that's it. I belong here. I belong with Miranda and the girls. This…this is my future—"

"You're future?" Mom raised her voice. "Your future is in the toilet, judging from the papers and the news channels.

"You mean the tabloids, Page 6, and the E!, I assume? I suggest you read the NY Times, the Washington Post, and watch true news channels instead if you truly need to follow the story." I bit off the words one by one, as my ire was up.

"Adjust your tone, Andy," Dad said, sounding just like he did when I was a teenager.

"Now that's something we all could subscribe to," I said, indeed adjusting my tone to mild and quiet. "Listen. I'm healing fine. I don't even have to have a bandage on anymore, and there shouldn't be a scar." I steeled myself. "I also wanted to tell you that I had an outpatient surgery a few weeks before this happened."

"What?" Mom sounded aghast.

"Yeah. It turned out to be a basal cell carcinoma. It was ugly, but the doctor removed it and it is very rarely the kind of cancer that spreads. I have been declared healthy."

"And she kept you from us while you were going through this all alone. You should have come home and let us care for you!" Mom nearly screeched now and I felt my nerves start to fray at the edges.

"Mom. Don't. Just don't." I tried to think what to say that could get through to them. I remember that I never was able to do that. Not for real, once they had made their minds up. I loved them, but I didn't always like my parents. It was a strange riddle for a young girl to figure out, but I was a grown woman, living my own life, on my terms now. "You say Miranda kept me here, and that I was at the same time all alone. That doesn't add up."

"You know what I mean. You weren't with family."

"As it turned out in the end, I was. Miranda took wonderful care of me." I flinched as I heard the sound of soft footfalls, unmistakably Miranda's. I saw her hover in the doorway. I patted the stool next to me. "She took me for a second opinion when the first doctor I saw was a jerk."

"Of course she did. She has the money to do such a thing. I'm sure that impressed you. If you had been here instead, we would have taken you to Doctor Nelson instead. He knows you," Dad said.

"Doctor Nelson was my pediatrician. I haven't seen him in nine years! I couldn't wait to be seen, that is the gist of it. I had to find a doctor fast, and had the procedure done the next day."

"And didn't even tell us."

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I should've, but I wasn't in that mind space to deal with this kind of phone call, where you corner me and make me have to defend every single step I take."

"If you acted like a rational person, someone who is capable of—"

"Let me talk to them, Andrea," Miranda said, not even bothering to lower her voice. "Put your cell on speaker mode."

I didn't want to. Part of me wanted to protect Miranda, and another part didn't want to her to hear firsthand what my parents had to say. Still, I was already so tired of trying to reason with my parents, who had already made up their minds, that I merely tapped the speaker symbol and placed the cell between Miranda and me. "You're on speaker. Miranda's here."

"We heard. That's outrageous. She can't just kidnap our conversation—"

"I can and I just did. As you must have read and listen to news of your daughter's ordeal, I merely want to inquire about your motives for making her feel even worse." Miranda spoke curtly, and her eyes were almost entirely slate gray. It was as if the warm blue hue she normally directed at me, had seeped out.

"You are responsible for what happened to her!" Dad yelled.

"I assure you that I'm not. My ex-husband's actions are of his own design, and it is infuriating and heartbreaking that he has hurt Andrea, my children, and me. I have all the resources available to me working to keep Andrea and my girls safe as he's out on bail." She paused, and then simply interrupted my spluttering father. "I never thought I would have to interfere with you, who are supposed to love and care for your daughter more than anyone else."

"Don't you dare question our love for our child," Mom hissed. "You sit there, so high and mighty, and have this…this death grip on our daughter, making her risk her entire future."

"In fact, it is you who are at risk of losing her, unless you step back and admit she is a grown-up, able to make her own decisions, and even if it isn't what you dreamed of for her, or pictured in your minds when she was little, it is still her choice to make, whether it is a mistake or not."

I stared at Miranda. A mistake? What was she talking about?

More movement behind us, and I knew the twins had come into the kitchen. I wasn't going to chase them out of the kitchen in their own house, so I pointed to the two stools on my other side. "Mom. Dad. The girls, Caroline and Cassidy, are here too now. Keep it civil. They're just twelve."

"And children are involved," Mom said weakly.

"Andy's part of our family," Cassidy said promptly. "She doesn't talk to us like we're little kids."

I heard Mom gasp.

"And last night, when Cass was really upset, Mom and Andy worked like a team, like parents do, to make her feel better. Everything is better when Andy's here. Mom is happier. And Andy is really happy with us. She tells us sll the time. She doesn't want to live in Cincinnati. She wants to live here. With us." The usually so mild-mannered Caroline spoke with a strong voice and I could tell Miranda was as surprised as I was.

"But Andy is my child, just like you're your mother's." My mother did tone it down as she talked to Caroline.

Cassidy took her sister's hand. "No, you don't get it, Mrs. Sachs. You are not good for Andy when you make her feel bad. Just like our Dad isn't good for us, no matter how much he loves us since he committed a crime."

A stunned silence from my parents spoke volumes.

"Mom." I leaned my head against Miranda's shoulder. "This is how it's going to be. I'm going to stay here, in New York, with Miranda and our girls. We're going to ride out this storm, and soon enough, there might be tabloids that figure out that I'm not just Miranda's assistant, but her partner. Now you know the full scope of everything, and I can't tell you how to react. I can only hope that your love for me is enough for you to remember that it is supposed to be unconditional."

"You rejected us first." Dad muttered. "You moved halfway across the country. Shackled up with a boy without being married…let him leave you alone to fend for yourself, which I blame your infernal job for…and then you suddenly decided you're a lesbian. How can you expect us to just accept all that? You could have—"

"Are you a homophobe, Mister?" Cassidy asked, her eyes huge. "Do you think just because my Mom and Andy are together, they're wrong?"

Perhaps Dad had forgotten that the girls were present, and now he coughed and I felt the embarrassment ooze from the cell phone speaker. "Of course not," he said, just below his breath. "Andy we need to talk more in private. If you're not prepared to come back home, even for a visit, then we could come to New York."

I shuddered. "Too soon for that, Dad. As long as all this is going on, you're better of enjoying anonymity in Ohio. And I'm not prepared to communicate face to face—not yet. When we hang up, that'll be it for a while."

Mom cleared her voice. "Ms. Priestly. From one mother to another…I beg you to persuade my child to return to her home, where she'll be safe. She's only staying because of you."

Miranda had listened with a stony expression, but now something flickered over her face. "Mrs. Sachs. May I call you Louise?"

"S-sure." Mom sounded taken aback at Miranda's gentle tone, which was not to be confused with her deceptively soft register.

"I think we need to dial this back and find our way to the real truth. Andrea loves living in New York and she is carving out the beginning of a no doubt successful career here. She also happens to love me, which was unfathomable for me in the beginning, but something I put all my trust in now. Not only that, but she loves my girls, and it should tell you something that I trust her with them. Implicitly." Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose, and I knew how much it took out of her to bear her soul to virtual strangers, even if it was my parents. "And I love her. I can't imagine my life without her."

I hiccuped as feelings flooded my system and threatened to choke me.

"Mom?" I managed when I couldn't hear anything from my parents.

"Your mother is crying, Andy," Dad spoke curtly, but without the venom from before. "You better be telling the truth, Ms. Priestly."

"Call me Miranda." She rolled her eyes but wrapped her arm around me. "You claim to love your daughter. I could say the same. You better love her."

Dad sighed. "You have a lot of nerve, questioning my love for Andy."

"Again. I could say the same." Miranda wasn't budging. Her eyes never wavered from mine, and I knew, I knew, I was at a crossroads with my parents.

"Richard. Please. No matter what, I can't lose her." It was Mom's husky voice and it nearly broke me.

Another silence. "Fine. All right. Fine." Dad growled the words but I knew he had given in. This wasn't perfect. It wasn't even a very good result of this talk, but it was at least not a full-out war.

Miranda ran a hand over her face, and I could tell she was unsteady. The girls rounded the island and came up to lean against us.

"Can we talk again in a couple of days?" I asked. "When we have mulled things over? I mean, it's good right, if we can talk?" I was ready to keep negotiations going because that was what it was. Negotiations. Détente.

"All right, Andy. Your mother and I'm going to put our trust in that you know your heart." He cleared his voice again. "Just know that if you need us—"

"Dad. I know." But I didn't need them. Not in the way he meant. I didn't need them to run my life. To feel they knew what was best for me. To tell me who I could or couldn't love. We were going to talk more about what a grown child needs from their parents.

After disconnecting, I felt dizzy. Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead against the cool marble countertop, trying to just breathe. Gentle hands cupped my shoulders and eased me up again. I found myself in Miranda's arms, and I closed my eyes as I pressed my face against her shoulder. "Does it ever end?" I murmured. "It's one thing after another. I swear I must've cursed us with my list."

"Shh. You've done no such thing." Miranda murmured something to the girls, but I didn't pay attention. When they tiptoed out of the kitchen, I realized they were going back upstairs to their rooms. "Life gets jumbled sometimes."

"Jumbled. It's like sitting in a centrifuge." I wrapped my arms around her. "And I'm sorry you felt you had to explain yourself to my parents."

"I didn't do it for them. I did it for you" Miranda pressed her lips together. "I did it to help you. I thought, perhaps you don't have to burn any bridges. It was agony, honestly, but it was worth a try."

"You are amazing. You truly are." I hugged her tight. "And as crazy as things are right now, this isn't." I kissed her earlobe and then a trail along her cheek to her lips. "Except this. This is…everything."

Miranda's breath caught. "It is."

We stood in the kitchen, silently swaying to music filtering down from one of the girls' rooms. I inhaled Miranda's intoxicating scent and wished I could keep all the doors and windows locked, and keep us all safe inside the townhouse.

"Dancing in the kitchen. Is this going to be a habit of ours, darling?" Miranda asked and nuzzled my cheek.

"Absolutely." I could smile and mean it now. I studied Miranda's expression. "If you like it too?"

"I do. There was a time when I wouldn't have, but with you—I more than like it." Miranda kissed my neck.

"Miranda…" I wished I could take her up to our bed and make love to her, but as that wasn't possible while our girls were awake, I thought of something else. "Do you remember the first time I spent the night here? When I was so nervous about the procedure and you came into the guest room?"

"It was only a few weeks ago. I'm not senile." Miranda drew a line along my cheek with her index finger.

"True. But I mean, do you remember how you felt? What you were thinking?"

"You were going back and forth to the bathroom so often, I thought you might be sick." Miranda tipped her head back and looked at me. "Why do you ask?"

"But you decided to offer to stay. To keep me company, as it were." I studied her closely. "Why did you do that?"

"You were keeping me, well us both, awake. I figured if I could be, well, supportive, I suppose, you might be less nervous." Miranda kissed my lips. "Again, is there a particular reason for this walk down memory lane?"

"Yes." I kissed her back. "So, you got into bed and took me by the hand—and you said please."

Miranda looked vaguely amused. "I did? I don't remember that. But you came into the bed with me."

"You can imagine my emotional whiplash. You ask me please to et into bed with you so we can get some sleep, and there I am, trying to fathom that I'm about to share the same bed with a woman I have been in love with for months."

"You think that was surreal? Try climbing into my assistant's bed, and then waking up with you so close to me, it made me wonder what had actually happened during the night."

"You thought we had done something?" I gaped. "Really?"

"I was concerned. I had dreamed about you, and for a few very long moments, I wondered if the heated kisses were part of the dream, or if it had been real." Miranda colored faintly. "I admit, for a moment, I was disappointed that it was a dream. Little did I know that only one night later, it wouldn't be."

I chuckled, but I also felt my body go warm and tremble at the memory of the first time Miranda put her hand between my legs. Everything had gone fast after that, but somehow it still felt as if it happened how it was supposed to. Not counting James, of course.

"I can't wait to get you alone," Miranda murmured. "I have plans for you, darling, and trust me, I will take my time executing them."

"Oh, God," I said and moaned. "I can barely wait."

Miranda glanced at the clock on the wall. "You have about four hours before I come to bed. We need to eat, the girls have to get through their nighttime routine, and I have to go through the Book. After that, I want you naked on the bed." She cupped my cheeks and pulled me closer for a long kiss. She slipped her tongue inside my mouth, and I whimpered as she explored me thoroughly. Once she pulled back, I managed to draw some much-needed breaths.

As I had just stated before, I could barely wait.

Continued in part 31.