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There are many things I care about in life, far more than people would assume about me. I love my children, who are the light of my life. I love my dog, even when she sheds her fur and drools on my Jimmy Choos. I even love my long time colleague and friend, Nigel, not that I would ever tell him so. I love ice cream, in all its incredible flavours, I love watching the sun rise in the morning and I love to watch British soap operas like Eastenders and Coronation Street because they remind me of a childhood that is long gone now.
Of all the things I don’t care about, at the top of the list is my ex-assistant, the flighty and sanctimonious Andrea Sachs; a woman who saw a peek into the underbelly of the fashion world and went skittering off across the road to throw her phone in the fountain.
No. I do not care about Andrea Sachs. I don’t care that she left so unprofessionally and I don’t care that she didn’t give notice. I don’t care at all. I don’t think about her, I never look for her byline or read her articles and I certainly have never asked Roy to drive past her office on the off chance of seeing her.
I would emphatically deny that I have spent any time at all missing the silly woman.
This is why I have no feelings at all when I spot Andrea on the arm of Anna Wintour at this charity ball for victims of domestic violence. No. My heart does not start beating more rapidly. The breath is definitely not stolen from my lungs when I see Anna dip her head towards Andrea and whisper in her ear. The sound of Andrea’s laugh, carefree and happy, does not make me stumble when it reaches me across the room.
When will I stop lying to myself?
I realise I am still staring when Anna catches my eye and has the audacity to wink, disconnecting her arm from Andrea’s and leading her to the bar with a proprietary hand on her lower back. I force myself to look away, but find myself caught in the curious gaze of Nigel and the moment he offers me that gentle smile, I realise that he knows. After a year of attempting to keep my feelings to myself, I understand I must have done a lousy job.
“She cares about you too, Miranda,” Nigel murmurs, stepping closer to me.
For a split second I open my mouth to keep up the pretence, but this is Nigel, and damn it, the man knows. There is no point in hiding what is now obvious to both of us; denial has done me no favours until now so perhaps it is advisable to change tactics.
“I doubt it, Nigel. She left and never looked back.”
He shakes his head, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waitress and passing one to me. “For someone so incredibly smart, you can be really obtuse sometimes.”
“Excuse me?” I glare at him, and he just gamely sips his champagne before deigning to explain.
“Our Six has no interest in fashion whatsoever, and yet she chose to get a job with Anna Wintour of all people,” Nigel points out. “Clearly the woman is trying to remain connected to you in some way, even if it’s just by working in the same industry.”
“By sleeping with the competition?”
“Do you really think she is sleeping with Anna?”
I ignore him in favour of finding the women in question across the crowded room. I can’t help the scowl on my face when I see Anna introducing Andrea to the Mayor of New York, a genuinely proud smile on her face as Andrea shakes the man’s hand.
“Yes. Yes I do,” I admit, unable to tear my eyes away from the woman I hate to love. “Why else would Anna give her a job in the writing department?”
“I heard that she applied to be her assistant, but Anna read some of her articles from college and hired her on the spot,” Nigel informs me, sounding just as proud as Anna looks. “Six is an incredible writer. Surely you read that article about the future of fashion versus sustainability last month?”
“As if I would read anything published in Vogue,” I scoff, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat rising to my cheeks. My denial couldn’t be further from the truth, considering I have read every single article Anna has printed of Andrea’s since she joined the staff. I have spent far more hours than is healthy, scouring the internet for a sign, any sign at all of Andrea, and how she might be spending her time these days. So far I have found nothing about her personal life, but I dread the day that my fears are confirmed and it is announced that she has snared the enigmatic Editor-in-Chief of Vogue.
Anna is not my enemy, though people do like to pit us against one another. She is strong, capable, intelligent and witty, which is why I have a huge amount of respect for her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate her tonight. Just a little. All our history is slowly circling the drain and distant memories of drinking wine and talking about fashion are fading in the face of my anger for her.
Nigel grins. “You have, haven’t you?”
It takes me a moment to be reminded of his question and I am about to admit that I have, when the music changes, and people start moving to the edges of the room. There in the centre is Andrea, a blinding smile on her face as she laughs at Anna who is walking towards her with a hand held out. When the woman reaches her and offers a quirky little bow, Andrea steps forwards into willing arms and they take off around the dance floor.
I am entranced, though I hate myself for it. I have no choice but to admit how beautiful they look, spinning around in each other’s arms. There is an ease between them, an intimacy that reeks of a relationship other than boss and employee, almost as if they have known each other for years.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” Nigel whispers in my ear, the light nudge of his elbow against my side.
I shake my head, unable to speak. There is an unfortunate lump in my throat that won’t go down, no matter how many times I swallow. “It’s too late. She looks... She looks happy, Nigel.”
“They’re not together, Miranda. Just talk to her, you’ll see.”
I don’t answer, spinning on my heel in search of quiet. If I remember correctly, there is a small sitting room off of one of the back hallways and I head for it now. I just need a moment to breathe. I need a moment away from Andrea and her happiness, now it’s so obviously not going to be linked to mine.
Did I wait too long? I want to kick myself for not reaching out to the woman. I let my pride get in the way and now, whatever it was I thought I felt between us has faded away, lost in the fresh bloom of new love.
I almost throw myself through the door when I find the room I am looking for. The liquor cabinet is calling my name and I pour a large scotch, sinking into the sofa cushions with a sigh.
The door opens and I’m about to send Nigel away when a soft voice reaches me.
“Miranda?”
Why has she followed me here? Is it not enough that I had to see her in Anna’s arms? Has she come to share her happy news? I can’t hear it. I can’t listen. I won’t.
“Go away, Andrea.”
Silence, and then soft steps padding towards me, muted by the plush carpet. The sofa cushion next to mine dips and I finally turn to face her. God, but she’s beautiful; silky hair, smoky eyes and red lips. She is wearing the softest expression I’ve ever seen and I want to slap it from her face.
“I wanted to see you. It’s been a year, Miranda.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
Her hand touches my thigh, and I turn to look at her, shocked that she would touch me so casually.
She smiles, and I feel my defences cracking. “Miranda, I wanted to say thank you.”
“What for?” I ask, though I have a feeling I know what she will say.
“We both know that you could have blacklisted me, but you didn’t. I appreciate it, even if I didn’t need it.”
Fury flashes through me at her words. Is she mocking me? I don’t even attempt to filter the words that spew from me next. “No, you didn’t need it, did you, Andrea? It’s amazing how you pride yourself on being an individual, and yet you so quickly joined the ranks of those who are sleeping their way to the top.”
I am shaking as I spit my words at her, regretting them before I have even finished speaking. I hate the hurt look on her face as my words hit their mark.
“You think I’m sleeping with Anna?” she asks, and now it is her who is furious. “I earned my position with her. I only applied for a lateral position as her assistant, and it was Anna who approached me about something more.”
“More,” I scoff. “We both know what that means, don’t we, Andrea. Tell me, just how many places turned you down before Anna pitied you enough to spread her legs for you?”
Stop. Why can’t I stop? I don’t want to say these things and I don’t want to hurt her like this, but every time I speak, I see her with Anna and it’s tearing my heart into pieces.
“Fuck you,” she growls and there is a danger in her tone I’ve not heard before. She gets to her feet and starts walking to the door, before turning to face me again; eyes blazing and hurt radiating from every pore.
“I waited a year, Miranda. I needed time to become someone without you. I wanted to be good enough for you and I wanted to be worthy.” She takes a breath and the anger drops from her expression, leaving in its place a look of devastation that makes me tremble. “Now I see that it was all for nothing. No matter what my position in life, the truth is, you will never be good enough for me.”
With that, she is gone, slipping out of the door and out of my life. I knock back my scotch and then get shakily to my feet. I will show my face back in the hall out of respect for the woman who runs the charity and then I’m going home to forget all about Andrea Sachs. With time, maybe I can go back to pretending that I don’t care.
Nigel is waiting for me, with a spare glass of champagne in his hand which I take gratefully.
“What the hell happened?” he hisses, leaning close to me.
“I have no idea what you mean, Nigel.”
He rolls his eyes. “So you have nothing to do with our Six running across the room looking like someone killed her puppy?” he snorts, shaking his head. “What the hell did you say to her?”
How can I answer that? He cares for the girl and I have just treated her horribly. She came to me and despite her words I couldn’t see past my own jealousy enough to really listen to what she was telling me. There is no coming back from this.
“Tell Roy to bring the car to the front,” I instruct him coldly, ignoring his question. “I’m going to say goodbye to our host and take my leave. You may stay as long as you like, Nigel. I’ll ask Roy to return for you.”
I don’t wait for an answer. Skirting around the people dancing, I head off across the ballroom in search of the woman who organised the event. There are hoards of faces that I recognise in the crowds, all the biggest names and the richest of New York’s upper society, all in one place.
A hand grips my arm, and I am being dragged into the corner by someone, too forcefully to stop them.
“Miranda Priestly, you better have a damn good excuse for what you said tonight.”
I sigh. Anna. Of course she is on the warpath after my attack on them both. If Andrea was mine I would burn the world to the ground to punish the person who hurt her so badly.
“I don’t see why it’s any concern of yours,” I reply, jerking my arm out of her grip. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’m about to take my leave.”
“Sit down,” Anna snaps, and to my surprise I do.
She is immune to my glare, apparently, and tilts her head as though I am a particularly outrageous outfit at fashion week, something to be studied, but makes absolutely no sense.
“What do you want, Anna?” I ask tiredly. The sooner I get this over and done with, the sooner I will be on my way home.
“We need to talk about Andrea,” she informs me in that high handed way that irritates me so much.
“I don’t believe there is anything to discuss, Anna. It’s none of my business. But…” I stop myself from saying more, but she doesn’t let me off the hook.
“But?” she questions, raising an eyebrow in my direction.
“If you touch her… I mean, hurt her. If you hurt her, then I swear on my goddamn Prada heels that I will ruin you, Anna Wintour. You might go nuclear, dear, but I will end the world in an apocalyptic rage if it means I destroy you in the process.”
Anna cackles, which is not the reaction I am expecting. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms so that I resist the urge to make contact with her face.
“Miranda, darling. I’m not going to touch your precious Andrea. She really is very beautiful, as you are so clearly aware, but it just would not be appropriate.”
I’m missing something, I know I am. I stay silent for a moment while I try to work out her angle, but I can’t. So I rely on my usual tried and tested tactics; offence. “You wouldn’t be the first person to bed an employee and I would hazard a guess that you’ve already done far more than touch her.”
She laughs again, and then gasps, holding up a hand dramatically to her chest. “Miranda! The things you accuse me of. I can assure you I am not sleeping with Andrea.”
I stare at her, and there is no missing the amusement on her face. I refuse to give her more reason to laugh at my expense, knowing that if I wait her out, she will eventually spill the beans.
“Miranda?” she says my name in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning towards me as though confiding a secret.
“Yes, Anna?” I reply sweetly through gritted teeth.
“Andrea,” she starts, and I can see the mischief dancing in her eyes. “Andrea is.. Well. She’s my… What’s the word again? She’s my…”
“She’s your what?” I fume, angry at her ridicule. “Your lover? Your mistress? Your paramour? What?!”
“My niece,” Anna replies smoothly, leaning back in her chair, and crossing one knee over the other.
Niece. Andrea is Anna’s niece? I wasn’t even aware that Anna had a sister. My brain finally catches up with me and I realise what she is saying. “You’re not sleeping with Andrea? You’re not together?”
“Miranda, you know me better than that. I conduct my affairs in private which is why Page Six has far less to say about me , than they do about you , darling.”
I want to take a swipe at her for such a low blow, but there is a small pool of excitement, bubbling up inside of me. Andrea is single. Andrea followed me and all but told me that she had spent the year trying to become someone worthy of me, as though she was ever anything less.
As if I wasn’t feeling horrible enough about my words to her this evening, now it all comes crashing down around me. How will she want me now? After everything I spat at her in a jealous rage? There is no coming back from my spiteful words, surely?
“She’s staying at my old brownstone. Do you still have the address?” Anna asks more gently than I deserve.
I nod, remembering the days before we were each other’s competition. Days spent editing each other’s articles over a glass of cheap Chardonnay from a box; the most we could afford back then.
“Yes, I remember.”
“Then go to her. You owe it to yourself and to Andrea, to tell her how you feel.”
When did my hands start shaking? I hadn’t realised until Anna puts her hands over mine, unfurling my fingers and rubbing the palm where my nails have left little crescent moons in red. “She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know. You fucked up, Miranda, but that doesn’t mean it’s over.”
“Are you sure?” I whisper, more vulnerably than I would like, but I trust Anna more than most people.
“She loves you,” she replies simply. “And I want my niece to be happy. So no matter what you said to her tonight, I know she will be happier with you in her life. Go to her.”
I dart forwards and press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Will you say goodbye to Amelia for me?” I ask, not wanting to be rude to the woman who organised the event.
“If you promise me one thing, then yes,” Anna counters.
“What?”
“Be brave, Miranda. She needs you to be brave, tonight. Don’t hold back.”
“I won’t,” I promise, getting to my feet. “Thank you, Anna.”
“Go get her, dragon,” the woman replies with a smirk, rolling her eyes.
*****
Roy holds the door open and I slide into the car, grateful for the darkness that has fallen. I give him the address and he raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Roy used to drive me at least once a week, when Anna still lived there.
The journey simultaneously feels like a lifetime and only a few minutes, and by the time we arrive my palms are clammy. Pulling up outside the building, my nerves get the better of me, and I tell Roy to wait. His sympathetic eyes find mine in the mirror.
“Andy loves you, Miranda.”
I actually groan. “Is there anyone that doesn’t have their nose in my business,” I snipe, but there is no venom behind it.
“A lot of people care about you, and want you to be happy. There isn’t a single person at Runway that didn’t see this on the cards,” he informs me sagely, but I can see the small lift at the corners of his lips, where he is trying not to grin.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help returning his smile. I nod in the rearview mirror and he exits the car to open my door. I reach out, my hand resting on his arm for a moment. “Thank you, Roy.”
He gives me a warm smile and encouragingly pats me on the back of my hand before I release him and walk towards the door. There are only five steps up, but each one feels like a mountain to climb as I fight the urge to run in the opposite direction. I ring the bell nervously, caught by surprise when the door immediately opens. The vision that awaits me takes my breath away. Bathed in the soft light from inside, Andrea is stunning as she directs a smirk my way.
“Andrea?” I ask, confused why she is offering me such a look rather than glowering in my direction.
She rolls her eyes. “Anna called. You know, my Aunt. ”
I know I am blushing as I rush to apologise. “I’m so sorry-”
She cuts me off with a raised hand, before reaching for mine and pulling me into the house. “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? I don’t want to waste any more by being angry with you, Miranda.”
I nod, lost for words and do the only thing I can think of to show her what she means to me. I step closer, gazing into the most expressive eyes I have ever seen, and kiss her. It’s perfect in every way, and I’m surprised to find I like it when she backs me against the wall and takes complete control. She steps away, breathless and glowing. “Glass of wine?”
“Yes,” I reply, just as breathlessly and although I’m a little disappointed she isn’t just dragging me straight upstairs to her bedroom, I also find I am relieved. I have so much to make up for and so much time has passed. I want her to feel cherished and loved before we take the next step. It might be old fashioned of me, but now it is time for the next chapter; the wooing of Andrea Sachs.