Andy carried the bag of assorted takeout food, hoping that some of it would suit Miranda's taste. She knew Miranda adored her steaks, but she was too picky about them for Andy to dare get one that wasn't from Pastis or Smith & Wollensky. She had bought sushi, Thai, Chinese, and Indian, thinking that whatever they didn't eat could be her lunches for the rest of the week.

Andy's boss had not looked pleased with her request to use her vacation days on the upcoming Friday and Monday. He had grudgingly agreed that he couldn't deny her since she had not been off work for ages. Miranda had sent her the itinerary for Friday with the accompanying e-ticket. They would fly out of JFK around noon, and the flight was a little more than five hours.

Entering her kitchen area, which was part of the living area of her studio apartment, Andy put the takeout, barring the sushi rolls, into her oven and started it on its lowest setting. She wasn't sure exactly when Miranda was going to arrive, and she wished she had dared to text Roy as she used to when she was Miranda's assistant. For all she knew, Miranda could be in an Uber or cab, or even use another driver.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to pee and make sure her sparse makeup was on point, Andy took a lap around her small space and made sure she hadn't forgotten something that she didn't want to be right under Miranda's nose. Everything that wasn't tucked away in a cabinet or a drawer in her apartment was in full view.

When she was certain she could let Miranda in and not die of embarrassment, she set the table, loaded the coffee brewer, and then sat down on a stool by the kitchen counter and tried to relax. She wasn't sure why she was all of a sudden so nervous again. She had danced with Miranda. She had spent an entire evening talking, arguing, and even crying, and then had phone sex with Miranda. The way their last texts ended up being pretty hilarious, as Miranda managed to convince Andy that she had gone under in the tub from sheer shock, had made Andy laugh until her tears flowed. Yet, here she sat, fretting over a studio apartment that a million wannabe New Yorkers would kill for. Ridiculous!

A knock on the door made Andy jump off the stool so fast, she had to take two steps forward to stop herself from falling. She took two deep breaths before she faked some calm and walked to open it.

Miranda stood there, looking even more elegant, and beautiful, than usual, perhaps since the juxtaposition with the worn corridor emphasized everything about her.

"Welcome, Miranda. Come in," Andy said and congratulated her sounding as if having Miranda Priestly visiting was an everyday occurrence.

"Thank you, Andrea." Miranda walked past her and into her living area/kitchen. She gazed around the room, no doubt noticing the linoleum, the walls Andy painted white, the scuffed wooden floor, and the secondhand furniture which was all Andy could afford once Nate took most of their stuff when he moved. Coming home from Paris with a kitchen table, two chairs and a mattress, hadn't helped with Andy's heartache, but she had on the other hand only used the mattress for most of the first two weeks, until she ran out of food and had to get out of the house.

"I like how you've done everything possible with this place. I can tell that you've managed to make it into your own space." Miranda smiled faintly as she removed her gloves, scarf, and coat.

Andy took them and hung them on one of the four hooks just inside the door. "Yes, it needed sprucing up. It's kept me in New York, and I know a few of my neighbors, which helps me feel safe as a woman living alone."

"I see." Miranda cast a glance through the windows in the internal wall. "Ah, your bedroom."

"Yes." Andy clasped her hands together behind her.

Miranda walked up to her, cupped one of her cheeks and kissed the other. "So nice to see you again."

"We have met or talked for four days. I was afraid I might be wearing you down." Andy grinned, knowing that her nerves might be showing. "I'm really glad you're here though." She ran her hands up and down Miranda's arms. "Are you hungry? I went a little overboard with the takeout."

"Good thing that I'm starving." Miranda looked with interest when Andy pulled out the cartons from the oven. "What did you get?"

"What didn't I get? Well, I didn't get steak, so I hope I found something else that you might like." She placed all the containers on a tray and brought them to the round dining table. It had the original two chairs, and then three more that Andy had painted in the same light-blue color. "I figured we could mix and match if we wanted to."

Miranda sat down and unfolded her napkin, which was made of paper, but it was Ikea's best, at least. She placed it on her lap and looked at the cartons. "The sushi rolls look well put together."

"They are. It's a family-owned Japanese restaurant further up the street. They are lovely people that make the best Japanese food." Andy pointed out the other cartons and made sure Miranda realized that none of them were from any place that would cause her indigestion for the rest of the week.

Soon, Miranda's plate had a little of each and Miranda of course handled the chopsticks like a pro. Andy began to relax as they both recounted their day, which Andy found interesting as she indirectly learned about Emily, Serena, and Nigel.

"How's your special story project going?" Miranda asked. "The one about social media?"

"I'm making some progress, but the fact-checking is not to be toyed with. It's labor intensive, to say the least." Andy sipped the Pelegrino she had set out for them. Miranda had turned down wine, which was probably good, as Andrea could never afford Miranda's favorite brands. "I'm enjoying it, even if it drives me a little bit crazy when I have to stop working on that story to hit the street to go with my boss sends me."

"So…you're happy at The Mirror?" Miranda picked up a sushi roll and studied it before dipping it into one of the variety of sauces.

"I am. I feel part of The Mirror family now, even if it took me almost two years to settle in completely. There was some snark from some people in the beginning, but some of them moved on, and others just quit having fun at my expense. Some of that was jealousy, as my boss gave me some pretty substantial assignments right off the bat. Some of it was because—my short stint at Runway as an assistant. They called me Coffee Girl for a while." Andy shrugged.

"It's not easy to carve your way when you're new," Miranda said and nodded. "So, I don't need to blacklist anyone, or have them shot at dawn?"

Andy laughed. "God, no. I've earned my stripes enough for them to treat me normally these days. I was shortlisted for an award a few months ago, and even if I didn't win, it gave me even more cred, I suppose."

"What award and for what?" Miranda took her glass and sipped it.

Andy mentioned the small, local award that still meant a lot of prestige within New York City. "It was for a story I wrote about street kids last year. It caused quite the stir."

Miranda put her chopsticks down. "I heard about that. I think it was Nigel who told me. He didn't tell me the story was yours, just that a reporter at The Mirror broke it. I think in retrospect that I guessed it was yours, maybe, since he was studiously not mentioning the journalist in question to me."

"I miss Nigel." Andy saw Miranda go rigid and couldn't quite figure out why. "And Emily and Serena. I'm sure they're not interested in seeing me, as I ghosted all four of you back then." Andy sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't keep bringing everything about Paris up again and again."

Miranda studied her for a moment. "Perhaps the opposite is true. I'm normally an ostrich kind of person when it comes to difficult times in my personal life. A firm believer in that hole in the ground with just enough room for one's head." She smirked. "That said, if we're going to find our way to each other, somehow, we can't pretend there was no hurt, or no wrongdoing, or, especially, no strong, overpowering emotions."

Andy was full. She had not overeaten, so it was perhaps because of her onset of nerves that she felt stuffed. She leaned back in her chair, holding her tall glass of Pellegrino in front of her like a shield. "You're right. Of course, you are." Andy regarded the cartons of takeaway. "Please have more, Miranda."

"Andrea, I'm full, thank you. Do you need help to put it away?" Miranda straightened.

Why not? "If I start putting the food into containers, you can perhaps clear the table? I'll start my coffee brewer."

"Coffee?" Miranda brightened. "Sounds lovely."

Andy took the tray back out into the kitchen area and deftly put the different leftovers into small containers. As she turned to tuck them into the fridge, Miranda stood there, holding the door open for her. When she closed it, Andy realized how small her kitchen was. Miranda was less than two feet away, and her scent was only rivaled by the coffee.

"Thank you for feeding me, Andrea," Miranda said gently. "It was a long time ago since I shared a takeout buffet with anyone."

"I enjoyed it too." Andy lost her breath as Miranda took a step closer.

"You've been a little jittery tonight." Miranda tilted her head. "Do I suddenly intimidate you against?" She sounded a bit disappointed.

"No. You truly don't." Andy didn't know how to explain. "I suppose I'm nervous at how, well, sort of close we have gotten, very quickly. I'm afraid of it all going too fast. I told you that last Sunday." She made a helpless gesture, palms up.

"You forget one thing." Miranda took one more step closer to Andy, slowly, as if she was afraid of startling a wild animal. "I'm in the same situation. I have the same fears. Don't you see?" She framed Andy's face with her hands. "So, I suppose we have each other over a barrel, even if I'd like to think that a better description is, that we understand each other's feelings better than most others would."

"And you have yet another point." Andy acted without thinking, placing her hands on Miranda's hips. She was dressed in a black and white silk shirt, tucked into black slacks. The warmth of her body permeated Andy's hands, making her inhale deeply.

"I must be on a roll." Miranda leaned in and kissed Andy's lips lightly. "I have waited to do that ever since Sunday."

"Miranda…" Andy slid her hands up to Miranda's waist, which felt even warmer through the silk blouse. "Yesterday, I worried that you might have been put off by us having phone sex."

Miranda blinked and colored faintly. "I admit that it was unexpected. And my first time, I'll have you know." She shook her head. "But…it was with you, Andrea. I doubt I would have been able to with anyone else."

Andy's heart warmed so fast, that she feared it might stop beating. "I couldn't believe it happened, but I don't regret it—if you don't." She smiled. "You're sexy no matter what. And your voice…God."

Miranda tugged Andy close and wrapped her arms around her neck. "I know we agreed to go slow. I still agree that's best, but that doesn't make it any easier."

Andy had her arms around Miranda's waist, not sure how she was going to persuade her body to let go of her. Memories of a similar position in the living area of Miranda's suite in Paris surfaced, and she burnished her face into Miranda's hair.

"Andrea?" Miranda merely held her.

"I'm okay. Just…memory lane." Andy inhaled deeply and the sensation of Miranda's hairsprayed hair against her face, that crispy sound, made her shiver. "The first time you took me in your arms, and allowed me to hold you, we were in your suite. You had run out of tears, I think, but you didn't seem in a hurry to move away."

"How could I? You were the only thing holding my world together at that point. That, and how your body felt against mine. Soft, gentle, and so incredibly sexy." Miranda sighed. "I had no defense against that, and I believe, even if I had, then I didn't want to step away from you. Oh, there was a part of my brain that shouted at me that it was wrong, that I was still married, and that you were my assistant, and dependent on me…all of that. I was still in charge of my faculties."

"Was there a time when you weren't?" Andy tipped her head back to look at Miranda.

"Not for real, no, but those three nights we were together, I blocked out any common sense and allowed myself to dream that what we had found together, could work." Miranda brushed her lips along Andy's jawline. "This is one reason why I'm not tearing your clothes off where we stand, Andrea. I'm fearful of ending up in that dark place again because I gave in too fast. Threw whatever caution I could muster to the wind, and told myself that I could have it all."

"What do you mean by 'it all'?" Andy pressed her lips to Miranda's left temple. She hoped Miranda wouldn't notice that they were trembling.

"You. Runway. My girls." Miranda sighed. "As it turned out, I nearly lost all of it."

Andy thought of how Miranda had fought for Runway, to a degree where she had sacrificed her oldest friend, Nigel. This part of Miranda, ambitious, ruthless, and very corporate when dealing with the business side of Runway, was another part of this woman she needed to wrap her brain around.

"Can we go sign down?" Andy let go of Miranda but kept a grip of her hand. "Perhaps not the couch or I might forget what I promised myself." She retook her seat, but instead of sitting across from her, Miranda pulled up a chair and sat next to her, which kind of defeated the purpose of sitting at the table.

"I had feelings for you long before I realized, or could understand what they were," Andy said quietly, still holding Miranda's hand. "When I found you in tears in your suite, I had conditioned myself, I think, to act the way I did. I never dared to dream you could ever see me as a…well, lover, or even a brief dalliance. In my mind, you were straight, married, and totally in a league of your own. I was Andy Sachs from Cincinnati, who dared to dream big about making it as a journalist in New York. I suppose I was vulnerable coming to Paris. I was impressed with the hotel, the city, the food, the clothes, and, oh God, all the celebrities, models, designers, photographers, and so on. I felt as if everything around me glittered, and if it wasn't for my immense imposter syndrome growling in the background, I would have cherished every moment."

"Imposter syndrome?" Miranda frowned and crossed her legs.

"Because it wasn't supposed to be me going to Paris. I took Emily's spot. Yes, she broke her leg even before I had a chance to break the news to her—but I had already decided to go. Even if I knew it wasn't right, that she would be crushed. Then she broke her leg while walking into traffic when talking to me on the phone. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't my fault. For the longest time, I took the blame for a lot, perhaps to punish myself."

"As did I," Miranda said slowly. "I blamed myself for pretty much everything, and unlike you, I wasn't all wrong." She leaned back into her chair and let go of Andy's hand. "I'm not very much of a catch, to be honest." Her smile had gone from real to rigid.

"Miranda." It was Andy's turn to pull up her chair and sit closer to Miranda. "Do you honestly think I'd have you here, in my home, ready to work toward us being—well, better together—if I didn't see the point? If I didn't still lose my breath whenever I'm with you, or talk to you over the phone—even text, damn it?" She retook Miranda's hand.

"You seem to use some of my sentiments against me." Miranda pursed her lips, but Andy didn't consider it one of those pouts that would send designers into bankruptcy. This was more of a pensive look, which made her curious as to what might be going through Miranda's head.

"Perhaps," Andy said slowly. "Or they're just really good arguments."

Miranda averted her eyes for a moment, and Andy got the feeling she was mustering courage for something. Curious, she remained silent while Miranda mulled whatever it was, over.

"I had no idea what to expect when I came here tonight. I know I invited myself." Miranda turned her gaze back to meet Andy's. "I think I needed to see how you lived, and who you were when on your turf, so to speak. As it turned out, you are a little more nervous here than at the townhouse. You say it's because you're afraid that we're moving too fast. Of course, I don't want to jeopardize anything. It's just this damn pull you have on me."

"And you on me," Andy said quickly. "I feel we're our very own sort of landmine. We both step in a certain direction and boom."

Miranda stood so fast, that Andrea flinched. She shifted and then straddled Andy's legs. Lowering herself slowly, she wrapped her arms around Andy's neck. "I'm going to leave soon, as I have to go over the Book, but before I do, I just need…I need to hold you. Feel you against me. Is this all right, Andrea? Or too much?" Miranda's body reverberated against Andy, who acted instinctively by pulling her closer.

"This is all right." Andy pressed her face into Miranda's neck, where her skin warmed her fragrance to perfection. Turning her head, she placed open-mouth kisses along Miranda's neck, knowing that she was probably pushing things, but also that she couldn't resist.

"God, Andrea." Miranda tugged gently at Andrea's hair and pulled her head back. She bent to kiss her, and this time, they both parted their lips. Soft and gentle, the tips of their tongues met, and carefully, and with much tenderness, they allowed the caresses to continue for a while. Only when Andy felt Miranda's hips start to roll against her, did she fear they were going to lose control. As if Miranda had read her mind, she let go of Andy and stood. "Time," she said huskily and pulled her phone from her bag, and then sent a text. "I suppose I won't see you until Friday. I will have Roy swing by and fetch you first." Miranda stood there, wide-eyed, and fiddled with her phone.

Andy rose and walked up to her. "Sounds good. I look forward to it. Thank you for bringing me." She knew it was a gamble, as it was Miranda's turn to seem skittish, but took her in her arms. "We're fine. The kisses weren't overstepping or too much, Miranda."

Leaning into the embrace, Miranda rested her forehead against Andrea's shoulder before she drew a deep breath and pulled back. Putting on her Hermes scarf, she took her coat over her arm and waited until Andy unlocked the deadbolt.

"See you on Friday," Miranda said as she stepped out into the corridor.

"See you then." Andy remained in the doorway until Miranda disappeared down the stairs. As she locked the door behind her, she saw Miranda's gloves sitting on the small shelf next to the hooks by the door. Taking them, she contemplated running after Miranda but then thought better of it. She would bring them to her on Friday.

Suddenly Andy knew in her heart that Friday couldn't come quickly enough.

Continued in part 10