"How could you?" Andy pressed herself against the door of the car and tried to reassemble the pieces of her shattered heart. "How could you do this to Nigel? He's your friend!"
Miranda raised her chin. "It had to be done. You know that if you use your head, Andrea." She smiled in that feral way that never reached her eyes. Andy imagined she could see Miranda's inner dragon flick her dangerous tail as a warning, but she couldn't keep quiet.
"I use my head, and my heart, all the time. I could never do something like that. I would do anything to avoid it." Looking at Miranda through her eyelashes, she tried to find the woman whom she had made love with three nights in a row. Miranda had made her believe they had truly connected, and Andy had willingly let herself go, given all she had to give of herself, and felt as if she finally knew herself. Knew what was right for her. And then…this.
"And you honestly sit there and think I haven't tried everything—everything—to keep my promise to Nigel. He understands that I had to save the magazine—"
"You saved your position. You threw him under the bus just as he began to see another future for himself. Dangled it in front of him just to snatch it away when he was starting to believe it."
Miranda clenched her fists in her lap. "Are you sure you're not talking about yourself, Andrea? Now that I've managed to disappoint you after dangling a bright, shiny future before you, you're trying to come to terms with my falling from the pedestal you put me on. Not going very well it seems."
Gaping, Andy felt her ire blossom into fury. "You make it sound as if I was some fucking gold digger! I haven't put you on a pedestal—and even if I had, I'm not a child who doesn't realize that we all stumble and make mistakes. I know I've made some—"
"Clearly. That must be obvious. Perhaps my biggest mistake will turn out to be allowing you into my—my life—" Miranda swallowed but then retreated immediately from her moment of weakness. "I have every intention to make this up to Nigel, and he knows it. I will create a position for him that will be even better."
"So, you say." Andy bared her teeth. "And if it suits you, you'll snatch that away and just assume he'll understand again. Well, I don't understand. Your position in the publishing and fashion industry is unrivaled—and yet you took the easy way out when you wriggled your way out of Ravitz's grasp. In a way I admire it, your fortitude, but your methods are sure questionable."
"Damn it, Andrea. You are too much like me in many ways to call the kettle black. You did just what I did—to Emily."
Andy shrunk back against the door again as the car made its way through Paris. She stared at Miranda and tried to find the slightest remnant of the woman she had made love to as late as this morning. Yes, Miranda had been frantic. She had pulled Andy close with such force, which she now figured must've been desperation. Thinking this might have been because Miranda knew how the day was going to play out. She had already placed her chess pieces and was prepared to sacrifice the piece that represented Nigel—and perhaps she guessed that Andy's reaction would be just like this. Disappointment. Content. Sadness. Even contempt. No wonder she had mapped Andy's body as if she was committing every single part of her to memory.
How could Miranda throw what they'd finally found to the wind? And how could she compare Andy's dilemma regarding Paris, when it was Miranda who had manipulated the entire situation? Tears threatened to spill, but Andy swallowed them. Enraged and with her heart in pieces, she spat the words, "I could never be like you. I wouldn't want to. The thought disgusts me. I could never be with someone who did what you just did. When you can easily sacrifice even one of your best friends who has given you his all for eighteen years. That tells me that you could easily do the same to me if it fits your agenda. I couldn't possibly draw any other conclusion."
Miranda snarled. "I wish I knew you were this naïve. You speak as if I've deceived you, when in fact it's you who are acting like a petulant child. As my assistant, you know me better than most, as you've seen me daily for the last nine months. You know I'm demanding, a perfectionist, and that I prioritize Runway, not only because I want to, but because I have to. If I don't, the magazine will suffer, and staff will be laid off, not just people working for Runway, but for all the publications under the Elias-Clarke umbrella. I will not have you criticize me for doing my job. For doing what I do best."
Andy retaliated immediately, not even stopping to think. "When I overheard the conversation between Jaqueline Foret, and Christian, I ran from the restaurant to try and fined you. To warn you. It was all I could think about. I didn't stop to think that you might already know that Irv Ravitz was making his move." Andy gasped and desperately tried to absorb the threatening tears. "And when I found you, you merely locked me out. You shoved the door in my face after hissing accusations. I even rationalize that. I thought you must be under immense stress because of the luncheon, and the whole mess with your husband. I was prepared to let that slide, chalk it up to stress." Andy sighed. "But that was the real you, wasn't it? The vulnerable Miranda I saw in your hotel suite...what do I know, it could be someone you enjoyed playing to keep me there as an extended part of being your assistant. Perhaps I helped recharge your batteries when I made you come, over and over. I must've been good for your ego, at least."
"My ego?" Miranda's eyes bugged out and pain flickered over her face. "You know where to aim, Andrea. I can hardly believe it. After all, I shared, all the trust I showed you, I could never have guessed that you were such a good actress after all. I truly believed you when you told me you'd do anything for me. That you'd always be there."
Andy's tears spilled over. There was nothing she could do to stop them.
Miranda's breath caught and she unbuckled her seat belt and slid over the seat. Framing Andy's face with her hands, she looked at her with dark, stormy eyes. "You look beautiful in tears, and even now, I cannot stand to see you cry." She pressed her lips to Andy's who responded as she had done during the last three nights. She parted her lips under Miranda's and returned the kiss. Sliding her tongue along Miranda's, she tasted faintly of champagne. Miranda hadn't touched her food during the luncheon but downed three glasses of champagne. Andy had counted—still so attentive around Miranda.
When Miranda pulled back, Andy felt the separation urgently. Like a sucker punch to her midsection, she realized that no matter what Miranda had done or said, she would always love her. She may not like her, right now she loathed her—or tried to—but it was as if Miranda's mere presence sang its siren song to her. "Miranda…"
Miranda pushed off Andy and retook her seat. "That proves my point. You aren't indifferent to me, in fact just the opposite."
"Wh—what?" Andy blinked.
"You sit there and pass judgment on me, and all I have to do is kiss you and you're ready to overlook all my transgressions and be at my beck and call. That proves you're not whom I thought you were. I would say that your fortitude is questionable. I told you once that you disappointed me more than any of the other silly girls—I had no idea how right I was. You didn't just disappoint; you didn't just break my heart." Hissing the words now, Miranda gave a horrible smile as she donned her sunglasses. The car began to slow down and pulled up to the curb. "You can consider our…arrangement…renounced. From now on, you're my second assistant, and we will both forget this…dalliance."
Andy couldn't breathe. Anger competed with the feeling of being crushed under Miranda's Louboutin heel. Miranda thought she could work for her after this? All the world they had leveled at each other—she could never forget, or forgive, Miranda for this. She had to get away instantly. There was no way for her to slam on her assistant game face and pretend to just do her job.
They stepped out of the car and the paparazzi and press immediately swallowed Miranda. Normally, Andy would have rounded the car like a sprinter and thrown herself between Miranda and the over-zealous individuals.
Now, Andrea stood motionless for a few moments, looking at Miranda, then turned around and began to walk. She knew approximately where their hotel was. She would collect her things from her room—she had to just forget the things she had left behind in Miranda's suite—and find an inexpensive ticket home. As she passed a fountain, her work phone rang. Miranda's name on the display slashed at her hemorrhaging heart. No. There was no way. She couldn't.
Tossing the ringing phone into the water, she imagined she heard the signal slowly drown. Andy tried to shake the panic and remain calm. There could be no regrets.
She was done.
#
Miranda sat up in bed, rubbing her arm where Andrea's fist had just hit her. Blinking at the clock on her nightstand, she tried to wake up. A mewling sound and another swaying arm made her wide awake when she realized that something was tormenting Andrea in her sleep.
"Darling?" Miranda ducked in under Andrea's still swinging arm. "You're dreaming. Wake up. You're safe."
"No, no." Andrea shrunk back, palms toward Miranda. "You hate me."
"What? No, I could never." Miranda took Andrea gently by the shoulder. "You are dreaming. Wake up, please, Andrea."
Andrea jerked and then her eyes snapped open. She gasped for air and blinked rapidly as she took in her surroundings. "Fuck," she whispered. "I was there…"
"In Colombia? But you're here now—"
"No," Andrea said and pushed her tousled hair from her face. "In Paris. In the car. Damn, Miranda. It was so real."
Miranda sensed an old familiar lump of ice form in her chest. "I'm sorry. That must've been hard. Especially after your ordeal in Colombia."
"It was." Andrea shifted and wrapped her arms around Miranda. "For you too. For us both."
"It was disastrous." Miranda trembled as old hostile words and accusations twirled through her mind. "It robbed us of four years."
"Yes. We can't change that. We can only control the now." Andrea cupped the back of Miranda's head and guided it against her shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you…or bring that up now. I don't know why it was so vivid. Perhaps because of Colombia."
Miranda found it hard to relax at first, but Andrea's gentle hands and the scent of hers slowly permeated her skin and melted the ice that had begun to form. Her heart rate went down, and she managed to relax.
"There. Better." Andrea kissed the top of Miranda's head. "Thank you for being at the airport…and for this. Being here with you and the girls. It means everything."
"Why do I feel you're reassuring me, when it should be the other way around?" Looking up at Andrea, Miranda saw only tenderness. "You're the one who just went through something that could be life-altering…and who had a horrible nightmare."
"Colombia is something we're going to have to talk about." Andrea's voice trembled. "But my nightmare wasn't just mine. Don't you see? That time in the car in Paris was truly life-altering—for both of us. Or perhaps that is the wrong word." Andrea turned into Miranda. "Kiss me?"
Miranda pushed up on her elbow and cupped Andrea's cheek. Kissing her lightly, she kept the caress loving and tender. "My darling. What do you mean? What word are you looking for?"
Paris was life-altering those three first nights. That's when we happened. You said it had been a long time coming, and you were right. I fell for you months before, but as I wasn't free, and neither was you, I had all kinds of explanations for how I felt. Then I was free—and you were getting divorced, and we let the fire consume us. I won't ever regret that. I will never regret a single moment with you, not then, not now." Andrea looked up at Miranda.
Miranda kissed her again. "So, there we were, both of us, so swept up by this amazing romance, and fabulous sex, that we could barely see straight. No matter where you were in a room, I didn't have to look for you, I knew exactly where you were. Every time I looked up, I only had to count to twenty, and there you were, looking at me with such voracious hunger, pound for pound matching my own."
Andrea nodded slowly. "What happened between us in the car—that was the part that wasn't life-altering. It was instead freezing our hearts in place. We pretended to move on. We furthered our careers. We found satisfaction in other ways." Andrea drew a shaky breath. "But we were stuck in that moment, in that hurt, when we scarred each other, and I left you struggling with that mob around you."
"You fell off the face of the Earth. You resurfaced a few weeks later, and I wrote that review for you for the Mirror, but I did that going on autopilot. Not because I hoped it would bring you back because I thought your hatred for me was that kind of flame that was inextinguishable."
"And I thought the same—but the other way around." Andrea snuggled closer and Miranda moved pillows around until they were comfortable. Andrea continued, "And then, four years later, I run into Caroline, and I see you in her. The memories came flooding back, both the wondrously good ones, and the ones that hurt like hell. I was dead certain I wasn't going to the gala. And then I still went. I had to see you." Andrea began to cry. "You danced with me, and as you were in my arms, I knew, even if I didn't dare put words to the feelings, that I was going to have to fight for you." Andrea pushed her face against Miranda's neck and her hot tears melted any residual ice in Miranda's chest.
"Just cry, darling. Share those tears with me. They don't frighten me." Miranda rocked Andrea gently, wanting her to release the stress she could feel ravaging Andrea's entire system. Something told her that talking about that day in Paris was being a kind of conduit for releasing the fear and stress from the attack at the hotel restaurant in Colombia.
They lay together in silence and Miranda could hear Andrea start to breathe evenly. She held her close and knew that Andrea's dream, and their talk in the middle of the night, had created yet another foundation for them to set their feet on. The steadier they stood together, the greater the chance they would make it together. Andrea might need professional help after Colombia, but for now, Miranda would be there. The twins would insist on being part of Andrea's journey too.
And when she could find the courage to tell Andrea how she felt, Miranda could only hope that her redemption might be complete.
Continued in part 21