Noticing that I had forgotten to turn the sound back up on my phone, I groaned as I checked it. Two missed calls from Miranda and one from Nigel. Eight texts from Miranda, two from Nigel. Damn it. I could be such an idiot, but I had been so dazed after my meeting, I lost track of time. And, this was a first for me. I was always so careful with my phone.
Pulling up the texts, I swallowed hard as they came in first.
12:48 am - Miranda: I wish you the best of luck today, darling. You will do very well. M.
12:52 am – Miranda: You must be in your meeting already. I will be most interested in hearing how it went. M.
1:44 pm – Miranda: Are you still interviewing? I have to say that the Mirror must have stepped up their game since I had anything to do with them. M.
2:05 – Miranda: Call me back when you are out of the meeting, Andrea. This is dragging on.
3:20 pm – Miranda: Andrea. Call me. M.
3:31 pm – Miranda: Your phone goes straight to voice mail. Where are you?
3:48 pm – Miranda: Call me or pick up your phone!
3:52 pm – Nigel: What's up, Six? You have to return Miranda's calls, or my life might be forfeited.
4:10 pm – Miranda: I can't believe you chose to ghost me at a time like this. Are you all right? Answer your bloody phone!
4:21 pm – Nigel: Hey, Six. Just get in touch with either of us before she strips the walls of paint.
I groaned and thudded my head against the window. She was pissed and rightfully so. Of all the time to have forgotten about my phone, which was usually my lifeline. Sweat broke out on my forehead and at the small of my back. Would she be mollified once I told her the truth? Perhaps.
I trembled as I called my voicemail.
4:12 pm – Call from Miranda Priestly: "Why aren't you picking up? You worry me and I don't like it. Call me back."
Yes, pissed and worried, but not too bad—yet.
4:28 pm – Call from Miranda Priestly: "How can you suddenly be impossible to reach? I should have insisted that one of our chauffeurs drive you, but I made the mistake of listening to you. Call me back, Andrea. You can't worry me like this. Not when things are—what they are. - Please."
Angry, worried, panicked, and out of breath. Oh, God, I never meant to worry her like this. How could I make this up to her? If it had been the other way around, at least I could call Moira, Nigel, or Roy…she had no one who knew exactly where I was.
4:45 pm – Call from Nigel Kipling: "You better have a good explanation. She's not doing well and just left to go home. Geez, Andy. Where are you?"
I shot off a text about forgetting about my phone to Nigel but knew I had to talk to Miranda face to face.
After reaching the townhouse, I stepped out of the Uber that I'd grabbed downtown. After meeting with the DA in charge of James Powell's case, I felt drained, and I knew that I was in for a storm as soon as Miranda found out what I'd done all alone, on top of scaring her.
I checked the time—5:02 pm. It worried me that it was half an hour since her last text. Did I reach home before her?
I was tired to the bone, and it was both with relief and trepidation I climbed the few steps up to the townhouse's front door. The paparazzi were still around, but after we'd called the cops on them several times, they kept their distance. Judging from their telescope lenses, they still got close-ups of me. I resisted a childish urge to stick out my tongue.
Last night, the network aired our interview, and we allowed the twins to stay up an hour longer to watch it with us. I had shuddered at seeing myself at first, not used to being filmed like that, but further into the interview when both Miranda and I let down our guards, I didn't think about how I looked. What I did see so clearly, was the obvious love in our eyes when we looked at each other. People would have to be made of stone to not see that.
Cassidy had studied every single expression and what everyone said with laser scrutiny, while Caroline had sat next to me and been harder to read. Afterward, the girls had needed to talk to each other, more so than to us, which was probably a twin thing. Once they'd finished talking, they joined us in the TV room, where Cassidy had spoken for both. As it turned out, they were thankful that we weren't 'all sappy and weird', that we 'looked cool', and, most importantly of all, that 'the gang was all there to show we had a crew'. Miranda and I had nodded our agreement and expressed that we were glad they were mostly positive. That was when Cassidy suggested that her mother might have 'melted the viewers' faces off when she got mad about a question', but that this was still cool too. I didn't dare look at Miranda, or I would have laughed my head off.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside the foyer. It was only lit by the small lamps on the dressers, and I didn't turn on the ceiling lights. I hung my coat and changed into my slippers before I had to steel myself and go find Miranda.
The entire ground floor was empty, but I had seen the girls' clothes, which meant they were in their rooms doing homework. I walked up the stairs and saw that the light was on in Miranda's study, but the door was closed.
Huh. It was rarely closed, unless she was in an important Zoom meeting. I stepped closer and listened, but I couldn't hear a thing. I gently tapped the door with my fingertips.
It took a while, but then I heard a muted, "Come in."
I opened the door and was taken aback at first since Miranda wasn't at her desk. My gaze flew around the room and then I saw her sit on the couch with her legs pulled up under her. She held a glass of red wine with both hands and stared into the fireplace where embers were slowly dying.
"Miranda." I could barely get her name out. "I'm so sorry. I forgot to turn my phone back on. I only just noticed."
She didn't look at me, and my stomach began to burn as if acid flooded it, which was my own fault for skipping lunch. I wanted nothing but to take her in my arms hold her tight and hear her forgive my mistake, but something made me remain where I was. "Miranda?"
She turned her head slowly toward me, and this was a part of Miranda that I hadn't seen in private ever since that night when I first stayed in the guest room. Cold, with her work persona mask slammed onto her face. Her eyes gave nothing away. "I had Nigel call the hospitals. I came…" She checked her white gold watch. "…three minutes from calling the police."
"I'm so very sorry. I have never forgotten to turn the sound back up on my phone. It was stupid and I'm sorry." I try to remain calm, but I could hear my voice quiver. Would she believe that it was a mistake, or would she think I was sloppy, or worse, careless? It was an oversight. An idiotic one, yes, but nothing I'd done on purpose.
"Where were you? The editor you had your interview with said you left at 1:30." Miranda kept her gaze on me, and I found myself wishing she'd go back to studying the fireplace. Her opaque eyes frightened me.
"I went to the interview. Then I had an appointment with the DA in my case." I knew I was screwed so I better get it all out in the open as soon as possible.
The only good thing about my revelation about the DA was that Miranda was startled and her eyes widened. "The DA. You went to see the DA and didn't tell me anything about it?" She put the wineglass down so hard on the coaster I thought the stem would break.
"Yes. She wanted to talk to me. Is it okay if I sit down so I can tell you about it?" I gestured to the couch.
"Now you want to inform me." Miranda looked beyond fatigued. "By all means, sit down. Talk."
I sat down but made sure to give her space. When she gave me a wounded look, I realized my error in judgment and scooted closer until our legs touched. "The DA called me just before the interview at the Mirror. Not sure how the interview went. I was preoccupied when I talked to the news editor." I ran my hand over my face and saw Miranda follow the movement. I'm not sure if it was the fact that I trembled so badly, but she took my hand and placed it on her knee, covering it with her.
She was ice-cold but I still could have wept for the small sign of comfort.
"What did she want?" Miranda asked, her eyes probing mine.
"She had made a deal with James and wanted to inform me." I felt like ducking at the sight of the storm rising in Miranda's eyes.
"What?" she said, barely audibly.
"He's taken a deal. There will be no trial. No more media exposure. He will do four years for what he did to me. Then he has to see what deal he might cut with the feds for his financial dealings. She wanted to know if I wanted to make a victim statement before the judge when he pleaded guilty. That could have some bearing when it comes to his chance of early parole. He's done some truly idiotic things with his law firm, financially, but as that also entails other states where he has passed the bar, it is a federal case. I suppose that will add years to his sentence. Not sure if those will be concurrent or consecutively." I sighed. "As for the victim's statement. I said I wanted to talk that over with you—and possibly the girls."
"I see." Miranda took my chin between her thumb and index finger. "And why didn't you call me when you got the message from the DA? Didn't we just sit in that bloody interview and say that what James did, he did to us both, and his daughters?"
I realized then that I might have screwed up irreparably. Tears began to run down my cheeks, and even if I hated how much I had cried lately, I was powerless to stop them. "I sh-should have. I don't know…All I could think of was that I wanted to take care of that part of our situation, so badly. I wanted to fix it and not have to go to a lengthy trial that would drag you in even further and hurt the girls…I just wanted to do that for m-my f-f-family…" I pushed away from Miranda before she had a chance to reject me and curled up around one of the decorative pillows—and cried until my chest hurt.
I felt the cushions shift and then the sound of the door closing. I was alone with my tears, and I suddenly knew this was the start of the end. How could a damn mistake with a phone and my desire to help, destroy everything so fast?
Gentle arms wrapped around me and forced me to turn around. I ended up across Miranda's lap, with my head on her shoulder. She tugged a blanket over me and merely rocked me. Her fingers were in my hair, massaging my scalp and I thought I heard her hum under her breath. I pressed my face against her and reached blindly for a tissue that seemed to magically appear in my hand. My nose was too congested for me to notice her scent, but Miranda's touch, and the feel of her against me—it appeared as if she tried to convey, she was not about to let me go, no matter how much I'd been disappointed her. '…more than any of the other silly girls…' I heard the words she'd spoken to me more than two years ago, in my mind. 'No other silly girl need apply…' Those words were only weeks old, and they had made me so happy. I hoped I still would be once she found it in her heart to forgive me. Crying myself empty, I was eventually out of tears. At least ten tissues later, I lay motionless with my face pressed against Miranda's shirt.
"Andrea." Miranda pressed her lips to my hair. "You frightened me, but I realize it was not because you were careless. You are never careless. That is also why I became so frantic. I panicked enough to frighten Nigel. I knew you would never be careless in a cavalier way. All I could think was that you were injured, or in some situation with paparazzi that you couldn't get out of."
"I understand that. You have every right to be angry." I hiccuped and goosebumps erupted on my arms.
"No, you don't understand. What I felt wasn't just anger." Miranda tipped my head back and ran her fingertips under my swollen eyes. "It was fear. Pure terror." She drew a trembling breath and now I saw it. Remnants of the horrors her mind had conjured up when I, who always, always picked up when she called, didn't answer for hours.
"Oh. Yeah. I'm still so sorry. I'm going to do my best for it to never happen again. I never want to hurt you." I wiped at my eyes. "And then I destroy your shirt with mascara and tears." I shook my head at the mess I made on her shoulder.
"I don't care about my shirt." Miranda kissed me gently. "I was furious because you frightened me so, but then there was something you said…or tried to say…that turned it all around and helped me understand."
"What did I say?" I had no idea what she could mean. I barely remembered what words I managed to get past my lips.
"You said you wanted to do this for your family. To protect me and the girls." Miranda's eyes grew shiny, but she had better control of her tears than I.
"Yes. That's all I wanted. All I was thinking of." I nodded emphatically. "I never meant to keep you in the dark. I was coming home and to let you know I had sort of fixed it. To a degree, at least."
"And you came home to me—like this." Miranda looked away and covered her eyes with her free hand. "I'm sorry too, Andrea."
"What? No. No, you have nothing to be sorry for—"
"But I do. I was so wrapped up in my fear that I destroyed your moment. You wanted to just bring me the good news as you saw it. And I was hardly receptible."
"So, we're both sorry." I hugged her. "That has to even it all out, please? Can we agree on that?"
"Yes." Miranda sighed and I could tell there was more, still. "Especially as it just dawned on me that I truly have been throwing stones in glass houses."
"What?" I peered up at her. "How…I mean…what do you mean?"
Miranda looked uncomfortable as she studied her nails. "I too have been trying to 'fix things'."
Shit. "How?" I had no idea what she could have been up to.
Miranda turned to face me again. "I have been in contact with Lily."
Continued in part 37