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Three years.
It had only taken three years for one Andrea “Andy” Sachs, ethical journalist extraordinaire, to achieve her dream: full time employment with a nationally renowned newspaper, a weekly feature column in said newspaper, and frequent freelance submissions in multiple magazines.
It took Miranda Priestly, editor in chief of Runway , the preeminent fashion magazine and pre-success employer of Andrea “Andy”(“must you Andréa?”) Sachs three years two months and seventeen days to recognize something questionable and disquieting had befallen the young reporter.
For three years, Miranda had been closely following the professional trajectory of her once wayward assistant. She had written the obstinate girl an ambiguous reference letter guaranteed to land her the job of junior reporter at the New York Mirror. She immediately subscribed to the “rag” and eagerly devoured every word printed associated with an “Andy Sachs” byline. Sixteen months later, Miranda dropped the Mirror subscription and began to scour her daily New York Times for the familiar moniker.
Six months later, Miranda frightened her staff when she stepped off her office elevator wearing an actual grin from the pride of seeing Andrea’s name attached to her own feature column. Although she would never admit it, Miranda was ridiculously amused that Andy’s beat was more a social column than the young woman’s dream civic exposé.
Currently, for three weeks, the Times had run reprints of Andy’s feature. Miranda was mildly annoyed, but figured the young woman deserved a vacation. However, when the fourth week had a leave of absence notice in place of the expected article, Miranda became livid. Just what had the New York Times done with her favorite protégé?
“Amani, get me Joe Kahn.”
“Yes, Miranda.”
Miranda stared out over the cityscape, her anger escalating as she impatiently waited.
“I have Mr. Kahn.”
“Where is she, Joe?” Miranda’s harmless query was laced with venom.
“Who are you looking for, Miranda?” Joe Kahn asked, more confused than afraid.
“Andréa Sachs.” Miranda dropped the name like it was hand grenade and a wrong answer would pull the pin.
“Ah. Well, here’s the thing. She’s currently staying at the Metropolitan Correctional Center.”
“Andréa is in jail?” Miranda’s confusion, anger and disbelief reverberated through the phone line. “How did this happen?”
“Contempt of court. Legal is on it.”
“Oh, for the…”
The slamming of the phone alerted Miranda’s assistant, who was standing at her office door with jacket and bag at the ready. Miranda stormed past, exchanging an order of “Cancel my afternoon” for her belongings.
Miranda arrived at the correctional center with one of her many retained lawyers in tow. Despite not being on the approved visitor’s list, Miranda was allowed admission along with her lawyer.
She paced anxiously until the door was dragged open to reveal the cause of her anxiety.
Miranda stood rigidly across the table, taking in the array of expressions that flitted across Andy’s face; surprise, awe, joy, dismay, and trepidation.
“Miranda? What are you doing here?”
“More to the point, what are you doing here?” Miranda found emotional safety in flipping the focus back onto the prisoner.
The women stared at each other, each wordlessly processing the absurdity of the moment and the myriad of memories and emotions between them.
A muffled cough broke through the tension, pulling Andy’s attention to the table.
“Ms. Sachs? Jared Barkley. Miranda has requested I help you with your situation. Would you like to tell me, in your words, what happened?”
“Clear case of privilege.” Andy took a seat across from Jared after shaking his hand.
“Good lord.” Miranda muttered from her position in the corner.
“Maybe a little more information would be helpful?” Jared prodded.
“My latest editorial in New York magazine may have implicated Harrison Bevin in connection with a racketeering ring.”
“Senator Harrison Bevin?” Jared confirmed.
“Yeah, that’s the guy.”
“Andréa.” Miranda relayed everything in that single whisper.
“Yeah, I know. I’m playing in the big league now, huh?”
“This is not a laughing matter, Andréa.”
“Miranda, you of all people know I am not meant to be a glorified gossip columnist.”
“It is less dangerous.”
The grin that spread across Andy’s face nearly stopped Miranda’s heart.
“Less danger, but nowhere near the prestige.”
“Give them the name, Andréa.”
“I can’t.” Andy dug in.
“Stop this. I will not have you put yourself in danger for your fifteen minutes of fame.” Miranda could barely control her fury.
“How dare you.” Andy exploded from her seat, sending the chair crashing into the wall. Leaning onto the tabletop with clenched fists, she glowered at Miranda. “This is my job, my profession. It’s my life for fuck’s sake. Do not trivialize this.”
Jared gently, but firmly guided Andy back into the righted plastic chair.
“Who requested the identity of your informant?” he asked, redirecting Andy’s attention.
“Bevin’s people are claiming it’s a case of national security.”
“Well, this is a quagmire. Any actual law enforcement approach you?”
“I had a visit from an FBI special agent.”
“Oh brother.” Jared muttered.
“If it helps, I think they’re more interested in what I uncovered about Bevin. I got the feeling they might have something going on him already.”
“What did they want?”
“My source in exchange for protection.”
“God damn it, Andréa. Take the deal.”
“Miranda, if you can’t hold your tongue, I will have to ask you to leave.” Jared ground out between clenched teeth. “Ms. Sachs…”
“Call me Andy.”
“Fine, Andy, I would feel better if you would take a meeting with the FBI agent again with me present.”
“I won’t give up my source.”
“Hopefully you won’t have to. However, I would prefer to get you out of this situation as soon as possible. It’s only one o’clock now. We may be able to meet later today. Are you amenable?”
“Of course she is.” Miranda butt in again. “Set it up. Get her out of here, Jared.”
Miranda glared at Andy, daring her to argue.
Andy studied Miranda for a few moments before finally nodding her head. “Fine. Make the call. Agent Felicity Vega, Manhattan office.”
The women were left alone in a cloud of awkward silence. As per usual, Andy broke first.
“Thank you.”
“Mmmm.”
“For the lawyer. I mean the magazine sent a guy, but…”
“Yes. Quality costs.”
“It wasn’t officially under the Times umbrella. They only go so far for freelancers.” Andy shrugged.
“Andréa...”
“No, Miranda. Please. Don’t ask me.”
“Must you always ride such a high horse?”
“I believed you once admired my ethics.”
“I admire your ethics. I do not admire your penchant for causing yourself injury over your ideals.” Miranda lowered herself into the seat left by Jared.
“It’s all I have. If I don’t stand up for what’s right, who will?”
“I can’t just write a letter to get you out of this.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Andy leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table top. With her head bowed, she looked up through her eyelashes to peer at Miranda’s face.
“How have you been?”
With a light snort of humor Miranda responded, “I am well.”
“The girls?”
“Thirteen, and in stereo.”
“Ouch.”
“They have decided that, although uncool, I am not as bad as their father so they would prefer to stay with me. At least, that is what they told the judge at the latest custody battle.”
“James is still fighting?”
“Only because he knows it annoys me.”
“I’m sorry, Miranda.”
Miranda heard the true emotion behind the words. She studied Andrea’s face for a moment, searching for any sign of duplicity. Finding nothing but open affection, she nodded in acceptance. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“I’m sorry you got involved with this.”
Miranda looked aside, avoiding eye contact.
“Why did you get involved?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Miranda stalled.
“Miranda, why are you here with your lawyer trying to save my ass?”
“Perhaps I think it is an ass worth saving.”
“Hm. Right. Now try again without being coy.”
“Let’s just say, for now, that I am concerned for your safety.”
“For now…”
“Yes.”
“To be continued?”
“Once you are out of this ridiculous mess.”
‘Ok, for now.”
They remained quiet, simply sitting with one another in a companionable silence until Jared returned.
“Right, so, we have a meeting set for three. Miranda, if you are done with your visit, I suggest you go. Andy and I have some things to talk about and you aren’t protected by attorney client privilege.”
Miranda raised an eyebrow at the irony of Jared’s statement, but stood to comply. She stepped around the table and reached for Andy’s hands. Clasping tightly, she pulled Andy close. With lips brushing the shell of Andy’s right ear she whispered, “Do what you must to get out of here.” Then her lips brushed Andy’s cheek before Miranda stepped back and left the room without another glance.
Miranda was alone in her den sitting in her favorite chair, holding a rocks glass of whiskey against her chest, and staring off into space. It had been two days since seeing Andréa and she had no update on the situation of her erstwhile assistant. The chime of the doorbell startled her from her mental wanderings. She considered ignoring the intrusion but decided with a sigh of irritation to answer the solicitation.
Not bothering to identify the interloper, she wrenched the door open and released a gasp of surprise.
“Oh!”
“Hi. Is this a good time?”
Miranda stared in amazement at the woman standing on her doorstep. By the disheveled appearance it was obvious that Andrea had come straight to the townhouse from jail.
Andy shifted her weight, indecision creeping in. “Miranda? May I come in?”
“Yes.” Miranda started. “Yes, of course. Please.” She pushed the door fully open and grabbed Andy’s wrist, dragging her into the home. Closing the door behind her, she looked at Andy in wonder. “You’re here.”
“Yeah, um, you said we would continue our conversation once I was out of the mess. So…”
“I don’t understand. How…?”
“You want to converse here? In the foyer?”
“Oh, no. No, of course not. Come in.” Miranda walked away, leading Andy back to the den and using the time to gather her wits.
“Would you care for a drink? Or are you hungry?”
“A drink would be great. Maybe food later.” Andy smiled gratefully.
Miranda stepped to the bar and held up a bottle for Andy’s perusal. “Whiskey? Or would you prefer a glass of wine, or…?”
“Whiskey would be great. On the rocks, please.”
Handing the glass off, Miranda waved towards an armchair. “Please, have a seat.”
They settled in and after Andy took a healthy swig of her drink, she began her explanation.
“The feds and Jared agreed on terms. I go free and my source, if willing to step up, would be protected under the whistleblower act. I used Jared’s phone to make the call, since I didn’t think they’d be able to trace his easily, and bing bang boom with some deliberation and cajoling, I’m free as a bird. As they say.”
“What about your safety?”
“I was told they’d keep an eye on me for a bit. Just to be sure. But, with the whistleblower’s corroboration, my article is practically null and void as a weapon against Bevin. So, they don’t think there will be any backlash. Especially since the feds are picking him up right about now.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“Are you, um, home alone?”
“What? Oh, yes. The girls are with their grandmother this weekend. I had a…thing last night. She offered to steal them away. You know how she loves to spoil them rotten.”
“I do. They’re always full of mischief for a day or two after a visit.”
“Hmm. You would know.” Miranda’s smile lit up her eyes as she thought of the many pranks her daughters pulled over her assistants. Frowning slightly she offered, “You know. They had more dire ulterior motives with your first prank.”
“Did they?”
“Oh, yes. They used you to interrupt the argument I was having with Stephen that night.”
“Oh, those little imps.” Andy laughed. “Hey, wait a minute. If you knew about that, why did you punish me the next day?”
“Really, Andréa. I couldn’t have you thinking you were special.”
“I guess… wait, what? What does that mean? Was I special?”
Miranda levelled an icy glare at Andy before ever so slowly allowing her eyes to roam over the woman, inspecting her from head to toe and back. A head tilt slightly to the side and an arched eyebrow in conjunction with an amused smirk, Miranda answered with a breathy voice that shot waves of desire through Andy’s body. “Absolutely.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Indeed.”
Miranda finished off her drink and stood abruptly.
“You must be famished. Come along, we’ll find you something to eat.”
Miranda led Andy through to the kitchen. As Miranda rifled through the refrigerator pulling out various containers of leftovers, Andy voiced an observation.
“You aren’t wearing shoes.”
Miranda paused in her search and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m in my home, Andréa. I am allowed to be comfortable.” Standing again to her full height she offered, “You may kick yours off, if you desire.”
Andy followed suit and toed her pumps off, sighing as her bare feet made contact with the cool tile floor. “This feels amazing. I can’t wait to get a hot shower.”
Miranda eyed the younger woman’s attire and casually offered, “You may take one now if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something clean for you to wear.”
“Are you insinuating that I smell bad?” Andy laughed.
“No. I am stating outright, you smell like a locker room. Go. Guest room on the third floor. I’ll bring you some clothes.”
Andy paused only a moment before taking the editor up on her offer. She bounded up the stairs taking them two at a time. On the third floor she mentally flipped a coin and chose to take her left. The first door was a linen closet. The second opened into a room with dark blue walls and a queen sized bed with blue and white linens. Deciding it felt too masculine to be Miranda’s room, she entered and headed straight for the en suite bath.
Miranda entered the room and smiled at the sound of Andy singing in the shower. She lingered to appreciate the woman’s natural vocal talent before rapping her knuckles against the door and pushing it open. She deposited her contribution on the vanity and excused herself, leaving Andy ensconced in frosted glass to finish her personal concert.
Miranda heard Andy moving about and started the microwave. When the brunette arrived in the kitchen, her dinner was already plated and waiting on the island. Miranda observed idly as Andy, dressed in a silk pajama set, scurried across the floor and clambered onto a stool to tuck into her meal.
“Very becoming.” Miranda quirked. “They look better on you than my ex-husband.”
“These were Stephens?” Andy nearly choked on a forkful of chicken picante.
“Not that he ever wore them. He claimed they stifled him, whatever that means.”
“They’re very comfy.”
“Mmm. You didn’t dry your hair.”
“Is that a house rule? No one in the kitchen with wet hair?”
“No. Just an observation. You look very young.”
“I feel very old.”
“How long were you ‘locked up’?”
“Twenty three days.”
“Was it horrible?”
“I can’t recommend it. A super eight offers nicer accommodations. But the roof didn’t leak.”
“Andréa.” Miranda’s tone was void of all humor. “Was it horrible?”
“I’m ok, Miranda. I wasn’t attacked by any inmates or guards. The food was edible. But yeah, it sucked. I am so relieved to be out. Thank you for rescuing me.”
Miranda stepped around the island and climbed onto the stool next to Andy’s. Staring at her own hands resting on the counter top, she softly murmured, “I’m sorry I was so late.”
“What?! What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t realize you were missing. For three weeks.”
Andy turned in her seat, facing Miranda fully. She reached across the gap and tugged Miranda’s hand to turn her. With fingers under the woman’s chin, Andy forced Miranda to look up, making eye contact. “You weren’t to know. I mean, how would you, unless you’ve been stalking me?”
“I depend on knowing things. I pride myself on it. And yet, I didn’t watch you too closely because I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you.”
“I wouldn’t mind. If you did want to stalk me, I’d be cool with it.” Andy teased, turning back to her impromptu dinner.
“I’ve read all your articles, or at least every one in the papers.”
“You did?”
“I must admit, I’m sure I missed some of the magazines. And I may have edited one or two.” Miranda added impishly.
“Of course you did.”
“Only lightly. You are quite good, you know.”
Andy’s ever infectious grin broke across her face. “Really? You think I’m good?”
“Quite.”
After a few moments of quiet contemplation Miranda offered, “I made it up to Nigel.”
“Yeah, I know. He and I keep in touch. He told me how you tried to push him off to Conde Nast, but he dug in until you confessed the new idea for Alfaiate. I like that you still work on the same team.” Andy leaned back, pushing her now empty plate away. “Thank you for this. I guess I was rather hungry.”
Miranda gathered the dish and cutlery, clearing the space and stashing the set in the dish washer. With a hand ready on the freezer handle, she asked over a shoulder “Would you like dessert? Some ice cream perhaps?”
“No, thank you. But I wouldn’t say no to a top off.” Andy raised her empty glass.
“Same?”
“Sure. I’m usually good until the third.”
“Shall we?” Miranda headed out of the kitchen, leading Andy back to the study.
Once settled with their refills, the conversation turned back to the subject briefly touched on during the prison visitation.
“So, ‘an ass worth saving’?”
“Mmm. You can’t deny you’ve been an ass.” Miranda tried to deflect.
“Miranda…”
“No. You’re right.” Miranda took a moment to organize her thoughts. “We had a rather unique working relationship, would you agree?”
“If by that you mean I managed to not try to murder you…”
“Now who is evading? No, you and I… we were different. You are different. From any assistant I have ever had. And we both know that is a rather high number.”
“Of your own doing.”
“Yes, yes. Fashion is too fluid to keep everything the same. Without actively changing my own environment, I would stagnate and get stale. Shifting assistants freshens the environs, keeps me challenged on the home front so I do not get too comfortable. New assistants often bring a new perspective for fashion that I may not have considered, widening my eyes and all that. But you…you were so…outside… of everything. There was not an ounce of fashion consciousness about you. If I could not instruct you, open your eyes, teach you…well, I should retire to a Caribbean island and lose myself to umbrella drinks.”
“Monkey ass rum punch.” Andy sniggered.
“Yes, well… You did learn. I admit I may not have had the gentlest touch with instructions…”
“Gentle as Genghis Khan.”
Miranda rolled her eyes and threw a side eye glare at Andy before continuing. “Never the less, you learned. And you blossomed; the storybook duckling to swan. You might not have been aware, but I did notice. I also noticed how you grew up. You evolved from the spoiled, self-centered, know it all to this mature, attentive, mindful, beautiful woman. There was a level of efficiency in the office that has never been achieved before or after you. On some level, you often knew what I wanted or needed before I could voice it, and you made it all happen.”
Miranda hesitated, taking a full swallow of her whiskey and withdrawing back into silence.
“I can’t argue that. I was basically a brat. And I absolutely give you credit for realigning my priorities. I know after I moved on, my friends, the ones still talking to me, seemed to be behind me on the maturity scale. They were all still standing with both feet in the work hard but party harder world. I didn’t have the patience for that anymore. I wanted to thrive in my profession. My drive to focus and work my ass off, to fulfill my dreams was of the charts. I learned that focus from you. I didn’t need to explain myself to anyone. I just needed to do better.”
“And do you still have those friends?”
“One of them. Doug. But I’m not sure he counts. He’s been my spirit brother since third grade. Some others are friendly acquaintances. And one or two are gone from my life completely. And I’ve gained a few, like Nigel. But all of that doesn’t really explain you riding in on the white horse.”
“You have no idea what you brought about when you left me in Paris.”
“Miranda, I’m…”
“No, no. This is my account of events. You may have your turn when I finish.” Miranda paused to refill her glass, offering another to Andy. Once topped off, she returned to her position, pulling her feet under her on the armchair.
“As we established, you brought nothing to the table in the guise of fashion, however, what you did offer was a certain peace of mind. And when you walked away, I was engulfed in fear. Who was going to be there to make everything work? You, with your infectious grin and easy manner smoothed so many ruffled feathers. Everything about my job, except for Irv, was easier… calmer. I don’t know how many times after you were gone I would turn to confide in you only to find an empty space. But what bothered me most was that I wanted you to be there. It hurt that you were gone, but it hurt more how much I yearned for you. I had to repair certain relationships without your feedback. I was forced to go through that insufferable divorce without you to distract me.”
Andy had shifted in her seat and was perched on the very edge of the cushion, leaning forward towards Miranda, attempting to somehow comfort the editor and absorb the pain from her words.
“Miranda, I…”
“Imagine my surprise when I finally took the time to deconstruct and understand what I was experiencing. Imagine the confusion and then the embarrassment of my dilemma when I realized that I was suffering from a broken heart. Just what was I to do? My distress was palpable, yet all I could do was observe you from afar.”
“Miranda.” Andy had moved again, finding herself on her knees in front of Miranda, clutching the older woman’s hands.
Miranda pulled a hand free to tenderly wipe a tear from Andy’s cheek. Through a compassionate smile and in a voice often reserved for her daughters, Miranda continued. “I could not… not… rescue you. Any harm done to you would cause me injury.” Through a teasing smirk she added, “And you know how self-serving I am.”
A sharp laugh burst past Andy’s teary smile.
“I had to rescue you, Andréa, simply because I love you. And I cannot sit back and watch someone I love suffer in any way. So, you’ll just have to forgive me for pulling your self-righteous rug out from under you, this one time.”
Miranda suddenly found herself on the receiving end of a passionate plea. Warm hands cradled her face, holding her in place as hot lips pressed urgently against her own. It took only a nanosecond for Miranda to catch up to Andy and return the affection.
The kiss, which at first was full of desperate heat, slowed to an exchange of tender devotion.
Miranda was the first to pull back, but she kept Andy in place with hands that were tangled in the chocolate tresses of her AWOL assistant. Reluctantly releasing her grip, Miranda wiped at Andy’s trembling bottom lip with an unflinching thumb.
“Well…”
“That was pleasant.” Andy sighed.
“Adequate.” Miranda allowed with an amused smile.
“Perhaps we should practice.”
“Are you always going to be this insufferable?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“If you must.” Miranda tugged Andy close, once again finding solace in soft lips.
Miranda distracted herself with the morning Times, intent on allowing Andy all the time she needed to recover from a month long prison stay. She was already on her second coffee and had begun nibbling on some grapes while she waited. The sound of water rushing through drain pipes alerted her to Andy’s movements. She busied herself with the coffee machine, preparing a cup for her evening visitor.
When Andy clambered onto an island stool, Miranda deftly slid a full cup across the countertop. A sleepy nod and smile after the first sip was all the thanks she required.
“Did you sleep well?” Miranda asked without artifice.
“I did.” Andy offered the first grin of the day. “Thank you for letting me stay last night.”
“Of course. I couldn’t let you travel across the city as tired as you were.”
“It did hit me all of a sudden, didn’t it?”
“I cannot say I have ever experienced that particular response to my… affections.”
Andy burst out laughing. “I can’t say I’ve ever broken out with a yawn in the middle of a make out session before. I am sorry about that.”
“Mmmm. As am I.”
Miranda eyed Andy with amusement as the brunette hopped from the stool and skirted around the island. Closing in she murmured suggestively, “Can I make it up to you?”
“You have been known to occasionally have a brilliant idea.”
At the touch of lips, Miranda’s arms snaked around Andy, pulling their bodies tightly together. Soft moans and sighs obscured the sound of the front door opening but the shout of “Mom!” from the foyer blew the women apart like a stick of dynamite.
“Mom?! We’re home!”
Miranda offered a weak smile in apology. “We’re going to have to get used to that.”
“If you’re so inclined, I am totally up for it.”
“Whoa! Andy? What are you doing here?” “Why are you in pyjamas? Did you sleep over?” Dueling voices demanded attention.
“Good morning girls.” Miranda’s mom voice cut though the drama. Would you care to join us for some breakfast?”
“Mom, it’s like eleven. Don’t you think that’s a bit late for breakfast?”
“Brunch, then.” Miranda supplied brightly.
The girls ran off to store their gear and freshen up while Miranda began to pull provisions from the refrigerator.
“Whoa. You’re actually going to prepare the food?” Andy blurted.
“I do know how to survive on my own.” Miranda archly replied. “Cara is a luxury, not a necessity.”
“Would you like any help?” Andy offered puckishly.
“Can I trust you with a sharp knife?”
“I usually manage to avoid my fingers.”
“Then you may prepare the vegetables. Chopped, not minced.”
“Right.”
The women worked efficiently, finding a natural rhythm in the galley.
“How is it my daughters are so familiar with you?”
“Maybe they remember the Harry Potter incident.”
Miranda stilled, pancake batter dripping from the whisk as she turned to freeze Andy with a death glare.
“You mean to tell me they would remember my ‘invisible’ assistant from almost four years ago simply because you completed a task for me?”
“Maybe?” Andy replied sheepishly.
Miranda waited until Andy broke.
“Or…maybe I sort of kept in touch with them?”
“Explain.”
“After Harry Potter, I might have taken it upon myself to expand their reading interests.”
Miranda still waited.
“I started dropping off different books I thought they might enjoy. And since I had their numbers in my work phone, we began texting. Initially about the reading choices, but then about other things. Who was crushing on whom, who was in or out any given week, which celebrities they were fawning over. You know, tween subjects.”
“Tween subjects.”
“Yeah. We sort of bonded. I’d shoot them a text to tell them your schedule changes, especially if it changed their evening time with you in any way. It made them happy.”
Miranda arched an eyebrow.
“It made me happy.” Andy confessed. “So, after the Paris debacle, they managed to obtain my new number and we continued to chat.”
“You developed and continued a clandestine personal relationship with my daughters under my nose for four years?” Miranda whispered incredulously.
“Yes?”
Miranda glanced down at the cutting board. “Finer pieces, if you please.” And the morning continued.
While the fritatta baked in the oven, Andy changed into a new outfit that had silently appeared in the coat closet while they were creating in the kitchen.
The family enjoyed a feast of vegetable fritatta, silver dollar pancakes with fresh berries, turkey bacon, roasted potatoes, melon, and petits fours that Andy had found in the refrigerator.
Miranda watched in amusement as her daughters enchanted Andy as if courting her. She had never witnessed them being so animated with any of her acquaintances, personal or professional. In the time since Andy’s impertinent desertion and Stephen’s insulting divorce, Miranda had only entertained two interim suitors. The first lasted seven months, the second only four. Although they both looked good on paper, neither man could induce the remotest desire worth upending her life. Nor could they produce so much as a smile from the twins. And yet, here sat Andrea, crying in laughter with the girls.
Out of the blue, Miranda interrupted the fun with a serious question.
“Bobbseys, out of curiosity, how would you feel if Andréa and I decided to pursue a romantic relationship?”
Three sets of eyes blinked at her in astonishment.
“Miranda?” Andy tested.
“For reals?” Caroline hoped.
“Are you fucking with us?” Cassidy demanded.
“Cassidy!” Both Miranda and Andy turned on the girl.
“What?”
“Language” Miranda admonished.
“Are you?” Cassidy pushed.
“It is a fair question, Miranda.”
Miranda took in the faces staring at her expectantly. Focusing on Andy she requested, “Andréa, will you accept my intentions and agree to a romantic alliance, provisionally at least?”
“Seriously? That’s how you ask a woman out?” Andy guffawed.
“This is more than just going out.” Miranda frowned.
“Yeah, but still.”
“Well I…” Miranda could feel the flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks.
Andy acted quickly to assuage the building explosion. Grabbing Miranda’s hand and squeezing to relay support and comfort, Andy grinned and answered affirmatively. “Hell yes, Miranda Priestly. I would love to get into a full on dalliance with you.” Playfully glaring at the girls she ordered, “Close your eyes, you aren’t ready for this yet.” Then she pulled Miranda close and sealed the deal with a kiss.