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Miranda Priestly had been looking forward to this day for quite some time. 

Contrary to popular belief, Miranda didn’t get much of a thrill from firing incompetent employees. Just because one does something often and well doesn’t mean that one enjoys doing it. Much like some of the other essential duties that came with her position, it was something that she had learned to excel at through sheer force of will.

Not this, though. No, Miranda was going to absolutely relish firing this particular underling. Miranda had known for months now of Irv’s latest little plan to oust her. This time he hoped to replace her with Henrik Billings, the magazine’s thirty-three year old head of social media. Something about reaching out to a younger demographic.

Really, of all of Irv’s harebrained schemes, this one was easily the biggest slap in the face. Was the man even trying anymore? What could have possibly possessed him to think that this veritable child, with minimal fashion expertise, could even dream of doing half of what Miranda does every day? It was insulting. Miranda appreciated a proper challenge, and this was anything but.

Stepping out of the elevator and walking into her outer office, Miranda was surprised to see the second assistant’s desk vacant. “Good morning Andréa,” she said as she reconsidered tossing her jacket and bag onto Dani’s desk. She turned instead to the rightly filled seat of her first assistant, raising a questioning brow. 

Warm brown eyes looked up at her in surprise, though whether at Miranda’s early arrival or her unexpected pleasantry she couldn’t be sure. Miranda held back a smirk. My, but she was in a good mood this morning.

Andréa cleared her throat, “Good morning, Miranda,” she scrambled from behind her desk to collect Miranda’s coat and bag, “Dani isn’t feeling well, so we thought it would be better if I took care of your coffee today. She should be here soon.” 

Miranda gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, placing her things in Andréa’s waiting arms before starting immediately on her orders, “Call Marc Jacobs about the stockings he sent. I specifically asked for champagne pink, not cotton candy.” She took a seat at her desk, unsurprised to see Andréa trailing behind her, notepad in hand. 

“Call my ex-husband and tell him no, we most certainly cannot change our Thanksgiving plans. The agreement was very clear, why does he think I’m going to rearrange with only a week’s notice?” Miranda glanced at the photos from the disaster that was yesterday’s Sitka shoot and couldn’t help but sneer. “Schedule a video conference with Fredrico before this morning’s run through, and I need Henrik in my office at 7:55. Tell makeup to be here and ready to present their new color scheme for the January issue by no later than 8:05, because what they showed me yesterday was clearly some sort of sad practical joke.”

Miranda looked up to see Andréa still scribbling away, and used the moment of relative calm to take in her outfit for the first time that morning. Andréa’s dress was the latest from Chanel’s fall collection. Between the way the deep forest green brought out the chestnut tone of her eyes, and the way the a-line cut showed off her figure... it was incredibly flattering. An impressive choice. A safe choice, as usual, but impressive nonetheless.

While Andréa may have appeared a lost cause upon their first meeting three and a half years ago, her time at Runway had clearly taught her much. In many ways, surely-- but at the moment, the first that came to mind was her ability to use her slowly growing sense of style combined with her natural beauty to make herself truly stunning.

Objectively, of course.

Miranda looked up to see a discomfited looking Andréa, clearly waiting to be dismissed.

Miranda tore her eyes away, ignoring the flush of her cheeks as she averted her gaze to her computer. “Let me know when Oscar calls. Oh, and since Dani is once again infectious, I’ll need you here next week as well.” A shadow passed across Andréa’s features. “That's all.”

—
 
It was 8:02 am, and Andy was trying her damnedest to eavesdrop on the conversation happening behind Miranda’s currently closed office doors. Across from her Dani sat, absently wiping her glasses on her sweater as she did the same. 

Although the voices inside were quiet, both women had been working for Miranda long enough to know when someone was about to get fired. Hell, working for Miranda for a week was long enough to figure that one out. Of all the mysteries that came with working for Miranda Priestly, this certainly wasn’t one of them.

Andy’s cell phone lit up, beeping obnoxiously. One glance told her it was a text from her mother, and Andy hastily shoved it into the recesses of her pocket. Andy had just sent a mass text to her family, explaining why she would have to miss Thanksgiving again. Andy couldn’t deal with her mom right now. She was trying to put on a happy face for Dani, who felt bad enough as it was.

...
 
‘It isn’t your fault, Dani,’ Andy had reassured her earlier on the phone, ‘You know that Miranda will use any excuse to–’

‘To keep you near, I know,’ Dani sniffled.

‘Uh–’ that was most definitely not what Andy was going to say, but Dani carried on.

‘You were so excited to go home for the holiday!’ She blew her nose. ‘You’ve been talking about it for weeks.’ 

...

Dani wasn’t wrong. Andy hadn’t been home to Cincinnati for what felt like ages, and had been planning her week long trip home all year.

It was then that Andy heard an all too familiar clacking as Emily practically jogged into the outer office. Following closely behind was her team, each looking more frantic than the one before. Wide eyed, she turned to Andy. “Are we late? Am I fired?” Before Andy could even open her mouth to respond, the doors to Miranda’s office flew open, a red faced Henrik Billings storming out of them.

“You can’t do this,” he seethed. His hair, normally styled to look slightly tousled, was wild. A blond lock fell into his eyes, only serving to make him look slightly deranged. 

“I assure you, I can.” Miranda’s voice sounded vaguely amused as she strode toward him.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyers,” Henrik’s voice began to rise, jabbing a finger in Miranda’s direction. “You have no proof. You can’t prove anything. You have nothing.”

“I hardly think that six unsolicited photos sent to four different women qualifies as nothing,” Miranda leaned against her doorway. “But best of luck to you with your father’s lawyer friends. Goodness knows his connections have gotten you this far.”

Unsolicited photos? Andy thought, confused. What kind of– 

“I– you– that’s–” Henrik appeared to be doing his best impression of a fish. His mouth opened and closed, looking for a retort and clearly finding none. Andy almost pitied the poor guy. He never stood a chance.

“I’ll be very interested to see what they come up with,” Miranda carried on as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “But I suppose that you would know better than anyone, wouldn’t you?” Miranda gave her most bone chilling smile, the one that always forcibly reminded Andy of a lion ready to pounce. “After all, this is your area of expertise.”

Andy suddenly realized what Henrik’s ‘unsolicited photos’ must have been of. She bit her lip, sure that her laughter wouldn't be appreciated at the moment.
“You poisonous bitch.” Henrik had found his voice again, and it was quickly rising into a shout, “You miserable old cunt, you’re enjoying this aren’t you? You’re only firing me because you’re intimidated by me. You know the board wants someone younger, and you’re getting rid of anyone who fits the bill.” He laughed mirthlessly. “You’re pathetic.” There seemed to be a collective intake of breath as everyone in the room turned to look at Miranda. Dani’s mouth hung open. Emily’s face had turned an unflattering shade of red, her team all but hiding behind her, now. 

Andy scowled. Oh, hell no. Alright, any semblance of pity she’d previously possessed for this creep had officially just evaporated. Andy picked up the phone to call security. “That won’t be necessary, Andréa.” Miranda, for her part, looked bored. “Henrik was just leaving.” She didn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her.

He scowled and opened his mouth to retort, but Miranda cut him off. “But Henrik, I’m confused. Because you see, I’m not firing you because I’m intimidated by you. While I’m sure there are many who would be intimidated by your little two-year degree in… what was it? Multimedia communications?” 

She smiled again, this one even more unpleasant than the last. “Yes, while I’m sure there are many who would be intimidated by that, I’m afraid I am not one of them.” Miranda’s eyes were like ice, her voice barely more than a whisper. “No, I’m afraid it’s much more simple than that. I’m firing you because you are incompetent. Because you spend more time sending lewd photos of yourself to my employees than you do in your office.”

Nobody dared move. Any and all of Henrik’s former bravado had vanished, alongside the color in his face. Miranda gave him one final look of contempt before turning on her heel. “That’s all.” She headed in the direction of her desk, not bothering to look back and see a considerably shaken looking Henrik, slouching out of the room with eyes glued to the floor.

Emily turned her terror-filled eyes towards Andy again, clearly trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do now. “Well, Emily?” Miranda’s voice rang out in the same dangerously low tone as before, “Do you expect me to wait all day?”

Emily squeaked, and with that she and her team were jogging towards the inner office once more.

 —

Miranda sighed, standing in the waiting area outside the office of Irv Ravitz. 

Dani informed her not 10 minutes ago that Irv needed to see her about an urgent matter. Miranda rolled her eyes. Urgent. Of course. If it was really so urgent, she wouldn’t be standing here wasting what precious little time she had, would she? No, this was nothing more than some tired power play.

Miranda didn’t have time for her boss and his petty little games this morning. She was waiting for a call from Oscar De La Renta regarding some last minute changes for the December spread. He was flying to Tokyo this afternoon, and lest she wanted to wait until tomorrow to hear from him, she needed to take it immediately. 

Not to mention the fact that the photos from what was supposed to be an elegant, wintry shoot for the January issue in Sitka yesterday turned out looking like little more than amateur Yeti sightings. Fredrico and his team were complaining of a blizzard, as if a bit of snow was supposed to somehow explain to her their extraordinary incompetence.
Miranda watched the clock, her agitation growing by the minute. She didn’t particularly want to think about what was truly upsetting her. The very idea that she would let the words of some petulant ex-employee get under her skin was embarrassing. 

“Miranda! Always good to see you.” She turned to see Irv walking towards her, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
She resisted the urge to narrow her eyes in suspicion, instead opting for the most unpleasant smile she could muster. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Come in, come in,” Irv gestured to his office, “Best to discuss these things in private.”

Irv’s office was everything that Miranda’s was not. Where she preferred the simplicity of light tones and minimalistic décor for her workspace, Irv seemed determined to stuff his office full of as much bulky, dark furniture as he possibly could. It sucked all light right out of the place, making it dreary and claustrophobic.

Looking over Irv’s shoulder towards his oversized desk, Miranda was surprised to see a man she did not know sitting in front of it. Moving to stand at a distance to the man’s left, she shot Irv a questioning look as he settled behind his desk.

“Miranda, this is Steve Thompson. Steve, Miranda.”

Miranda nodded, barely affording the man a glance. “Would either of you care to explain to me why I am here, instead of in my office, preparing for the run-through due to begin in–” she glanced at the hideous old grandfather clock sitting adjacent to Irv’s desk, “–eighteen minutes?”

“Steve here had some very interesting news to share with me this morning.” Irv folded his too-small hands atop his desk. “Apparently, you’re in a bit of trouble with the Office of Immigration.” He smirked. “Something about failing to fill out the proper paperwork for residency renewal, and leaving the country last month, even after your official request to do so was denied. Twice.”

Miranda stared at him, incredulous. “What on Earth are you talking about? My visa is due to be renewed in the spring. I haven’t been informed of any issues with my paperwork.”

Steve cleared his throat next to her, “Actually, Ms. Priestly, that’s incorrect. We have evidence showing that you have been contacted no less than five times about the due date for your paperwork being moved up to September 12th, 2009.”

Miranda shook her head, “Nonsense. If that were the case, then my legal team would have been informed months ago. And I don’t see what any of this has to do with him,” she turned to glare at Irv, whose smirk only grew. “I should have been contacted directly. This is an incredible breach of privacy.”

“Your legal team was contacted, actually. You requested several years ago that your documents be sent directly to the office of Troy Harrison. Unfortunately, we had no choice but to meet with Mr. Ravitz, as you have responded to neither the Office of Immigration nor your legal team these last two months. He needed to be informed that your visa has been effectively revoked, and that continuing to employ you would constitute a federal offense.” The immigration officer whose name she had already forgotten paused, clearly waiting for a response.

Miranda’s eyes widened as the words sank in. “…revoked. My visa has been revoked?” She felt her heart begin to race and she shook her head in disbelief. “What? What does this mean?”

The officer ran a hand through what was left of his hair. “Well, it means that your visa is no longer–”

“Yes, I know what it means,” Miranda hissed impatiently, “But what do you plan to do about this? This is obviously some sort of clerical error on your part. I can’t be held responsible for the many ineptitudes of the United States’ government.”

The man gulped visibly, beginning to look downright frightened. Good. “Well ma’am, it means that you’ll need to reapply for a visa. In the meantime, you’ll be deported back to Canada until your application has been renewed. The whole process usually takes up to a year.”

Miranda felt the ground drop from beneath her feet.

“Deported? I’m being deported? For a year?” She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. “I’m from Montreal for god’s sake, is that really necessary? I’ve lived in this country for thirty years! My entire life is here, my career, my family–” Miranda’s heart went cold as she thought of the most important thing of all. “And what about my girls? They’re American citizens. Am I supposed to just drop them off with their father for the next twelve months?” No. No, no no.

Irv cut in, “Well, I won’t claim to know what’s to happen with your family, but I can help with any confusion you might have about your position here at Elias Clarke,” Miranda turned to stare at him.

“Unfortunately, if you’re being deported, you will no longer be able to work for Runway.” His greasy smile told Miranda just exactly how unfortunate he thought this was. “We’d be forced to replace you, and right now the most qualified candidate for the job is Mr. Henrik Billings.”

Red tinted the edges of Miranda’s vision. She closed her eyes and counted to five. “Henrik Billings,” she said flatly, eyes still closed. “Whom I fired not two hours ago.”

“The very same,” came Irv’s smug voice.

She turned to look once again at the mousy little man sitting next to her, her mind searching frantically for some sort of loophole and coming up woefully short. “There has to be something that we can do about this.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to do, ma’am. You broke federal law last month when you left the country for England–”

“Of course I went to London you sad little man, do you have any idea who I am?” Miranda was quickly losing any and all sense of her usual decorum, and she could feel herself beginning to border on hysterical. This wasn't happening. This wasn’t happening. “If you truly thought that the Editor-In-Chief of the--" she was interrupted by a loud rapping at Irv's door.

“Miranda?” Came Andréa’s muffled voice through the thick mahogany, “Miranda, I’m really sorry, but De La Renta is on the line.”

Miranda’s heart clenched unexpectedly, thinking of yet another person she would have to leave behind because of this mess. This was something that not even Andréa could fix. It wasn’t as if she could–

–or could she? It was legal now, after all... And there were certainly worse fates than this. Yes, much worse fates than this. Miranda would know.

Her head whipped around to stare at the door, mind racing. Andréa. Andréa was the loophole that Miranda was searching for. Andréa could save her.

—

Andy knocked once again on Irv’s office door. She knew Miranda would be pissed that she was interrupting her meeting with the CEO, but she didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Andy knew it was more than her job was worth to let Miranda miss this call, and she didn’t exactly relish the idea of spending the rest of her working life at TV Guide.

Just as Andy was beginning to consider letting herself in, the door opened. But where she expected to see a particularly irritated-looking Miranda staring back at her, Andy instead saw something considerably more frightening: Miranda was smiling at her.

Miranda had dozens of facial expressions. Dozens of minutely different ways to silently pronounce her displeasure. To anyone who wasn’t paying attention, most of these expressions seemed very similar (if not identical). Andy, however, prided herself on being fluent in the language that was Miranda. A curl of the lip was something completely separate from a sneer. The meaning of a raised eyebrow varied in millimeters. There were four different eye-rolls, each worlds apart in their meaning.

Miranda’s smiles were much fewer, however. Or… scratch that. Miranda had almost as many different smiles as she did sneers, and their meanings varied just as drastically. She just used them much less often.

Andy had been lucky enough to see some of Miranda’s real smiles a handful of times over the years. When she was truly smiling, Miranda was nothing short of radiant.

The smile currently being directed at Andy, however, was not.

“Andréa, darling, come in. You’re here right on time, as always. I was just telling them the news,” Miranda gave her a meaningful look. Whatever the hell that meaning was supposed to be, however, was completely lost on Andy. So much for her fluency.

“Oh. Um. Right,” Andy spluttered, “The news.” What the hell was she talking about? What news? Did Andy forget something? And since when did Miranda call her darling?

“It’s alright, dear.” Miranda put her hand on the small of Andy’s back, leading her towards the desk at the center of the room. Andy’s brain promptly broke. “They already know about the engagement.”

“Right. The engagement,” Andy replied. Thoroughly distracted by the pleasant warmth now radiating from Miranda’s hand on her back, she asked, “Which engagement would that be, again?” Andy felt a firm pinch and jumped, barely withholding a squeak.

Miranda gave one of her fake, airy little laughs. “Our engagement, Andréa. There’s no need to pretend any longer, darling. I’ve just finished telling them all about it.”
Andy finally turned to take in the other two people that she had initially been too overwhelmed to notice. Irv, wearing a bland smile that did little to hide his obvious displeasure, and a mousy little man who looked nothing short of petrified. Well, at least that was one normal thing about this interaction.
Andy’s mind snapped back to the conversation at hand. Our engagement? Andy thought.

The word ‘engagement’ only brought one situation to mind. But... Miranda couldn’t possibly mean–

“It looks like we’ll be forced to move up the ceremony, unfortunately. I know how set you were on a spring wedding, but with a few adjustments I’m sure that a winter wedding can be just as breathtaking,” Miranda continued.
Oh. Oh. Okay, or maybe she could possibly mean– 

“The– the wedding.” Stuttering, Andy could barely get the words out. “Y-you’re– you’re talking about our… wedding?” She coughed, having managed to choke on her own saliva. Eyes watering, she turned to see Miranda staring at her with wide eyes. Instead of the anger she expected to see there, irritation at Andy for not being able to read her mind at this of all times, she instead saw something that looked almost... pleading.

Andy knew better than anyone else how incredibly difficult it was to tell an angry Miranda ‘no’. She had been forced to do it on more than one occasion, and though it became slightly less terrifying every time... she was still grateful to escape each time with both her job and her life intact.

Now, faced with an obviously desperate Miranda, Andy knew that telling her no simply wasn’t an option. It was a look she had seen only once before, and Andy felt even more helpless now than she had on that day years ago.
…

Andy stood next to the town car, watching Miranda weave her way upstairs through the flashing lights and shouting voices of the press with her usual grace. Her words still rang in Andy’s ears. ‘I see a great deal of myself in you.’ They filled her with so many different emotions that she didn’t even know what to think of them. 

Actually… scratch that. Andy didn’t know what to think about any of this. Especially all of these damn feelings she had stuck in her chest, feelings that she had been completely unable to ignore since last night. 

Seeing Miranda so vulnerable, so obviously in pain and trying to hide it… it cracked something open inside of Andy.

‘Everybody wants to be us’. 

Did they really, though? Would they, really, if they knew?

After all, this was coming from a person who had sacrificed absolutely everything, even and especially her own happiness, at the altar of her career. Sure, Miranda was successful… but at what cost? Were those really Andy’s only two options? Personal misery or professional ruin?

Mind whirling, Andy needed some time alone. She needed to think. She needed to– 

Turning on her four-inch heels, Andy walked away.

…

All of this has taken place within the span of a few heartbeats, of course. But for Andy, that moment changed everything.
Andy took a deep breath and cleared her throat. She had no idea what was going on, but decided that, this time, she would trust Miranda enough to go along with it. For now, at least. “Right. Sorry. What were you saying? About um… about our…” Andy tripped over the word, “...wedding?" 

The relief on Miranda’s face was palpable. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, the mousey man whose name Andy couldn’t remember spoke up.

“Well Ms. Priestly, before you and Ms…”

“Sachs,” Miranda and Andy said at the same time. Did Miranda just blush? Her hand was still fixed on Andy's lower back, grip loosened somewhat. 

“Right. Well, before you and Ms. Sachs start planning out the specifics, I would suggest first stopping by the immigration office. You’ll need to fill out the appropriate forms before you’re able to do much else.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

“Yes, obviously.” Miranda narrowed her eyes at the officer, “I have done this before.”

God, I hope not, Andy mused bitterly. I’m pretty sure that springing this on one person is enough, thanks.

“Yes, yes, of course Ms. Priestly,” The man was tripping over his words. “My apologies. Best of luck to the both of you, and congratulations.” He nodded towards Andy.

Andy was spared the need to try and remember how to form human words when Irv spoke up for the first time since Andy entered the room. He wore the same bland smile as before, but his eyes were tight with fury.

“Yes, congratulations, Miranda. May this marriage be at least nominally more successful than your last three. With luck, you might even make it to the New Year.” Irv turned his gaze to Andy. “I guess this would explain how you lasted so long under her thumb, wouldn’t it, Andy? Three years.” He whistled quietly through his teeth. “Unheard of. Seems a bit less impressive when you think about it this way, though, doesn’t it?”

He shook his head, and Andy felt her stomach drop at the words. “It’s a shame, kid. A real shame. But I guess it would explain a couple of things that’ve had people scratching their heads for awhile now.”

Andy could practically feel the rage coming off Miranda in waves. The hand still lingering on the small of Andy's back trembled faintly before balling into a fist and retreating behind Miranda's own back. “I wouldn’t throw threats around so idly. After all, I’m hardly the first person to fall for their assistant, am I?” Miranda raised her eyebrows, and Irv turned an unflattering shade of maroon.

Miranda cocked her head, another fake smile upon her lips. “Yes, things could get quite awkward if people learned of Sheryl, couldn’t they?” She shook her head, “But we wouldn’t want that. After all, what would your wife think? Office adultery is a messy business.” She shrugged, “Or, so I’ve been told.”

Silence filled the room, and the mousy man stood hastily. “Ah, well. I think that about covers it. Best of luck to you two ladies, and it was a pleasure meeting all three of you.” Without waiting for a response, he stood up, nodded to each of them in turn, and all but sprinted out the door. Andy had never envied a person more.

The silence stretched on for so long that Andy was beginning to consider fleeing as well, before Miranda finally broke it. “You have threatened the happiness of the most important people in my life today. My daughters, and my…” Miranda hesitated for a moment, “...my Andréa. It could hardly be said that I’m a forgiving person at the best of times. But this?” she laughed lowly, not bothering to finish her sentence. 

‘My Andréa’? Andy thought, stupefied, Since when am I Miranda’s anything at all? She clenched her fists, not appreciating the warm tingle that formed in her belly at the words.

—

The ensuing car ride to the Immigration Offices was nothing short of the most uncomfortable thirty minutes of Miranda’s life. Considering the vast expanse of uncomfortable moments she had to choose from, this was certainly saying something.

Andréa was stunned into silence. Miranda was as well, if she were being honest with herself. And it wasn’t as if she were exactly a natural conversationalist even on her best of days. Which this most certainly was not. In fact, this day was easily one of the worst of her life.

What in God’s name had she been thinking? She hadn’t been. That much, at least, was obvious. Miranda had been desperate, close to hysterical, and when she’d heard Andréa’s voice… it had simply been the first thing to come to mind.

Her lawyer had certainly had little enough to say about it on the phone earlier. When Andréa could only get his secretary, Miranda called Troy herself– and he had been even less helpful than usual. He did little more than assure Miranda that they would ‘look into it’ before hurriedly getting off the phone, as if Miranda wasn’t in the middle of the crisis of her life. She wanted to growl in her frustration. 

That would have to be dealt with later, however. Miranda had more pressing matters to deal with at present.

Yes, much more pressing matters. Such as her current bafflement at how Andréa had gone along with her scheme so readily. I shouldn’t be surprised, she supposed. She did every other ridiculous thing Miranda asked of her without question, why should this be any different?

Because it is different, Miranda thought miserably. How could she honestly expect Andréa to go through with this? How could she possibly expect her very young, very straight, and not to mention very uninterested employee to marry her? She couldn’t.

No, she couldn’t do this. There had to be another way. Hadn’t there? Miranda thought back on her past dealings with Immigration over the decades and felt her stomach clench; she knew the answer already. This truly was her only option.

Is it really worth it? came a thought unbidden, Is it worth trampling over yet another person who matters to me? What had happened with Nigel was one thing– he was hurt, obviously, and their longtime friendship had suffered for it. For a time, at any rate. But not even a year later she was able to make it up to him, ensuring his own well-deserved spot as Editor in Chief of Runway London seemed to rectify things quickly enough.

This, though… there was no quick fix for this. She asked herself once more: Is it really worth it? Miranda may be the Dragon Lady... but lord, she had a conscience. She was only human, after all.

Hearing her phone beep, Miranda was pulled out of her reverie by a text from Caroline. Putting on her glasses, she opened her phone to see a photo of Caroline and Patricia (What was it her girls had called it? A ‘selfie’?) laying on the couch together in the den, both looking rather pathetic.

[10:27 AM] CPP: I read sumwhere that puppy cuddles r vital for boosting the immune system. xx

Miranda smiled despite herself. Caroline was home sick with a particularly nasty cold. Cara couldn’t get to the house until noon, so her daughter was under strict orders to send hourly photographic evidence of her wellbeing until the nanny arrived.

[10:28 AM] MP: Better go find a puppy, then. 7 years is certainly too old for that title. Glad to see you’re both resting, Bobbsey.
[10:28 AM] CPP: :P

Putting her phone away again, Miranda found herself wondering how much time she had left with her daughters. Her brief moment of respite quickly ended as she felt her heart fill with dread. She blinked back sudden tears. My babies.

Miranda had dedicated much of her time these last few years to knitting her little family back together. Her divorce from Stephen had been a particularly nasty one, and her marriage to him had been only slightly less so. The dissatisfaction between them was palpable within months of saying “I do”, and her girls had suffered dearly for it. Three years of constant arguments, loaded silences, and slammed doors between the adults in their lives had done them no good.

And really, she only had herself to blame. She had married Stephen hoping to provide her daughters with a proper, two-parent family– it had been so important to her, once– and instead she came close to losing the only family that truly mattered. The girls very nearly left to live with their father. The thought of losing her children, the two people she loved more than anything in the world, ripped Miranda apart from the inside out. 

She knew then that something must be done. Immediately.

It had taken the words of Cassidy, always the more pensive of her two, to make Miranda finally understand.

…

“We don’t need another dad to make a family. We’re already a family.” Cassidy looked at her seriously, “All we want is you, mom. Just you. Just the three of us, together.”

“Yeah,” Caroline added, “What she said. Just, please don’t make us have another step dad. Promise?”

Miranda was open-mouthed with shock. She nodded slowly. “I promise.”

…

And that had settled it. Miranda was not in the habit of denying her daughters anything they asked for. If their mother was what they wanted, then their mother they would get.

And so it came to be that Miranda had spent the last year devoting as much of her time as was physically possible– considering her already constantly full schedule– being as present with her family as she could be.

Doing things like taking extra care to be home by 7:30 for dinner each night, and scheduling around things like dance recitals and (god help her) soccer games. Proclaiming Sunday afternoons and evenings “Family Days”, and moving mountains to make sure that she was there upon their arrival home from their father’s house each week.

Of course, this translated into many sleepless nights spent catching up on work missed, and being in the office every Saturday the girls were with Davis to make up for precious hours lost. But Caroline and Cassidy were happier and more well adjusted than ever before, and that was all that mattered.

How could she possibly take that away from them now, when things were finally so good? How could she leave them with their father for a year while she wiled the months away in Canada? What kind of mother would that make her?

What am I going to do? She closed her eyes, already knowing the answer and hating herself for it. Whatever I must.

Miranda took a steadying breath. She was nothing if not decisive. “Andréa, call Troy to set up a meeting immediately. Tell him I expect a full explanation, and to be ready to pore over every single detail of the paperwork for our fiancée visa, twice. And that perhaps, if he cooperates, I'll consider not suing his entire practice into the ground. Is he really stupid enough to think that he's my only legal contact?"

When Andréa answered with nothing but silence, Miranda looked over at her. Andréa was staring out the window, sitting perfectly still but for the strand of hair twirling around her fingers.

“Andréa.” Miranda’s voice was gentler this time, if only just. She was met only with more silence.

Just as she was struggling to think of something else to say, anything else, Andréa finally spoke.

“You don’t get to do that,” her voice trembled slightly as she turned in her seat to face Miranda. “You don’t get to throw… throw a marriage on me, you don’t get to turn my entire world upside down, put my career on the line, and then pretend like nothing happened.”

Miranda opened her mouth to respond, but Andréa cut her off. “No, Miranda. I think you’ve gotten to do plenty of talking about this. All of the talking, actually. No, it’s my turn now.” Andréa’s stare was hard. “Did you stop and think for even one second about how this would affect me? Did you consider the fact that you’re putting my entire career at risk? Everything I’ve worked for?” She shook her head, “No, of course you didn't.”

Andréa’s voice was beginning to rise, “I mean Jesus, Miranda, what the hell kind of plan even is this? What are your kids gonna say?” Her eyes widened with a new thought, “God, you don’t even date women! How do you honestly expect people to believe that you just magically fell in love with your 28 year old, female assistant?” There was a blush creeping up her neck.

Miranda scoffed, “I expect people to believe me because that’s what I will tell them to believe. Besides, it’s not as if you date women, Andréa.” What? Of all of the things she could have possibly said– that was hardly important now– 

Andréa snorted. “You’re joking, right? You’ve got to be joking.”

“There’s nothing to joke about, here. Consider acting your age, young as it may be.” Miranda’s eyes narrowed. What on Earth was Andréa talking about? She couldn’t possibly mean…?

Andréa was actually laughing now. She clutched at her sides, bent over and wheezing from the force of her peals. Miranda wondered at the likelihood that Andréa had finally cracked from the stress.

“Oh my god, you’re not joking. You’re actually serious.” She wiped tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised. You really don’t pay attention to anybody but yourself, do you?”

Miranda’s eyes flashed. “I’ve attempted to be patient with you, considering the current situation, but I will not be mocked.”

Still smirking, Andréa rolled her eyes. “I’ve been out as bisexual for more than a decade. I’ve dated like… three different women since working for you– including Serena.” Andréa looked at her pointedly, “I know for a fact that you saw us kiss at least once.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. Well. Perhaps her gaydar wasn’t quite as functional as it once was.

She was at a loss for words. “…Brazilians are much more openly affectionate in their friendships than Americans,” she responded dumbly. Miranda had no idea if such a thing was true. She was entirely too distracted by the sudden, inexplicable flame of jealousy now flickering in her chest, imagining the dozens of different ways she might fire Serena and put an end to her career entirely.

“I’m pretty sure that even the best of friends don’t slip each other the tongue, Miranda,” Andréa was shaking her head once more. Miranda blushed, and then scowled at herself for doing so.

“But that’s not the point,” Andréa continued. “The point is that this is the worst idea you’ve ever had, and that’s saying something. There’s no way in hell you can really think this is gonna work. I mean...” she gestured between the two of them, “Who’s honestly gonna believe that we’re a couple?”

Miranda bristled, her temper flaring. Oh, that was how it was going to be, was it?

“Well. I’m sorry you seem to believe that you’re so incredibly out of my league,” she all but growled. “But regardless, I think you’ll find that I’m rather good at convincing people to see things my way. For example, right now.”

Andréa’s eyes went wide, realizing her mistake too late. “Miranda, that wasn’t what I–”

Miranda continued as if Andréa hadn’t spoken. “You seem to be laboring under the delusion that you have some sort of choice in this matter. Let’s put those idle fantasies to rest, shall we? If you want any hope, any hope at all, of having a future in publishing, then you are going to do all that you can to fix this with me.” Andréa just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“To be clear: If I’m forced to step down as Editor-In-Chief, I can promise you that the first thing Irv will do is to fire both yourself and Dani. You’ve both been too loyal to me, and he’ll therefore want nothing to do with you.”

Miranda’s voice was like ice. “If you refuse to help me, I will personally see to it that you are shunned by every single major media source in North America– not to mention Europe, Australia, and the majority of Asia. You won’t even be able to get a job at The Enquirer when I’m through with you.”

Miranda cocked her head, “On the other hand. Should you choose to help me, you will leave Runway with a glowing reference, guaranteeing you a spot at whichever publication you wish to grace with your presence. Why, I may even consider sending that manuscript you keep hidden in your desk to some of my many friends in publishing, if all goes well.” Andréa’s eyes widened in astonishment.

Miranda smiled. “Do we understand each other now, Andréa?”

Andréa was aghast, “…you’re seriously– you’re threatening me?”

“Yes.”

Doe eyes stared back at her, and Miranda tried to ignore the churning of guilt in her stomach. She looked away, smoothing down the sleeves of her jacket.

“Is that really necessary? Do you not know me well enough by now to realize that I would’ve–”

Miranda looked up, her gaze stony once more. “I believe it’s up to me to decide what is and is not necessary, Andréa. Not you.” She glanced out the window, avoiding Andréa’s eyes, “We’re nearly there. Do we have an understanding?”

Andréa stared at her, shaking her head slowly with what was surely disgust. Miranda tried not to care.

"Yes, Miranda.”

— 

The office that Andy and Miranda were ushered into was incredibly depressing, and Andy’s mood was not helping things. White paint was peeling off the walls, but everything else was blanketed in various shades of gray.

Plus, the room was damn near microscopic. Miranda was all but sitting on her lap, their chairs were pushed so close together in the small space. Normally, their close proximity would have Andy’s head spinning. Right now, though, she wanted nothing more than to shove Miranda away from her.

Andy was pissed. There was no other word for it. Having Miranda force her into a marriage was one thing. But then Miranda had to go and threaten her? And Dani, too, Andy seethed.

It was like the past years of growth had never even happened between the two of them. As if Miranda was completely unaware that Andy had sold her soul to the Devil herself ages ago; that Andy would do any and everything in her power to make sure that Miranda was happy.

Ugh. She wasn’t sure which was more infuriating: The fact that she had the world’s most inconvenient crush on Miranda Priestly, or that Miranda was completely oblivious to this fact.

"Well, ladies,” Andy was pulled from her thoughts by the man moving to sit behind his desk. “My name is Eugene Yurman, and I’ve been assigned to investigate your case. I’m not the best with small talk, so let’s jump right on in, shall we?” He glanced down at one of the many papers littering his desk.

Eugene Yurman wore his dark hair slicked back. Between his hair, his enormous glasses, and the pocket protector Andy could see sticking out of his shirt, he looked like someone who was shoved into many a locker as a kid.

He returned his gaze to the women in front of him, hands steepled under his chin. “So. Are you both committing fraud to avoid Ms. Priestly’s deportation so she can keep her position as Editor-In-Chief at Runway?”

Shit. The jig is up. While Andy did her best impression of a person who definitely wasn’t guilty of committing a federal crime for their ungrateful boss, Miranda spoke up.

“Gracious, where would you get an idea like that?” She chuckled, “Of course not.”

Eugene didn't look up from his paperwork. “We had a phone tip this morning…” He ruffled through his file. 

“Is there any chance that it was a man named Henrik Billings?” Miranda asked.

Eugene adjusted the glasses on his nose, nodding. “Yes, that’s the one. We received a phone tip from one Mr. Henrik Billings earlier today.”

Miranda shook her head. “I apologize for wasting your time, Mr. Yurman. Henrik is a disgruntled ex-employee, nothing more. Now, if you would be so kind as to lead us to our next step in this process, we’ll leave you to your work.” She moved to stand.

"Ms. Priestly, please,” He held up a hand. “Let me explain to you the process that's about to unfold.” 

“Step one will be a scheduled interview. I'll put you each in a room, and I'll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other.”

“Step two, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, I interview your co-workers. If your answers don't match up at every point, Ms. Priestly, you will be deported indefinitely. And you, ma’am,” He looked pointedly at Andy, “You will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of $250,000, and a stay of five years in federal prison.” 

Andy felt her eyes widen. Shit, shit, shit. “So,” he continued. “Ms… Sachs, was it?”

Andy nodded, swallowing hard.

“Ms. Sachs. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Andy could feel Miranda’s eyes boring into her skull from beside her.

Andy shook her head.

Eugene looked disappointed. “No?”

Andy paused, thinking hard. Closing her eyes, she nodded.

“Yes?” Came the voice in front of her.

She took a steadying breath. “Yeah. The truth is…” She placed a hand atop Miranda’s on her armrest, and felt as it stiffened immediately. She gave a little squeeze, and the hand beneath hers relaxed somewhat. “The truth is that Miranda and I are just two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love, but did,” Andy smiled.

“We just… we thought it would be incredibly inappropriate for us to tell anyone, not until after I left Runway. I’m starting at The Mirror in three weeks, you see. So the plan was to begin telling people then.” She heard a sharp intake of breath come from the seat next to her and Andy smirked. Feels great to be blindsided, huh, Miranda?

Andy patted Miranda’s hand. Miranda turned her hand palm up and locked their fingers together, calling Andy's bluff and giving a squeeze of her own. “We... we worried that if we came out about our relationship before then, the legitimacy of my position would be questioned. I’m sure you understand.” Andy shot another smile the investigator, thoroughly enjoying the position she now found herself in.

Yurman narrowed his eyes. “I see. So. Do either of your parents know about your secret love affair?”

“Well–” Andy started, but Miranda cut her off, releasing Andy's hand in the process.

“You’ll find that I have been estranged from my immediate family for quite some time, now. Since before I entered the United States, in fact. So, no.”

Andy raised her eyebrows. This was the first time she’d heard Miranda make any mention of her family. Andy knew she had to have one, obviously– but hearing Miranda actually admit to it felt bizarre.

“My daughters are my only family,” Miranda continued. 

Andy tried to ignore how sad these words made her feel by reminding herself of how angry she still was with Miranda. It worked. Mostly.

“We were going to wait to tell them in our own time,” There was a note of irritation in her voice now, “But clearly we’re going to have to talk to them sooner than planned. We don’t want them learning of our relationship from tabloid rags, after all.”

Eugene nodded. “And you, Sachs? Are you estranged from your family as well?”

“Um–” Andy paused. She just had probably the best idea ever, and it was so perfect that she wanted to laugh out loud with satisfaction.

“Uh, nope. Actually, we were planning to tell them next week. We’re going down to Cincinnati for Thanksgiving, and staying all week.”

Miranda erupted into a fit of coughing next to her, and Andy had to bite her lip to keep the shit-eating grin off her face.

“A week? In Ohio?” Miranda choked, “Are you–” she took a deep breath to collect herself. “Dear, are you sure? I seem to remember deciding to fly into Cincinnati just for the one night.” She turned to glare at Andy, who smiled innocently in return.

“No, sweetie. Don’t you remember? I haven’t been able to go home for Thanksgiving for three whole years, so when I told my parents we’d be coming, they absolutely insisted we stay the whole week. Otherwise, we’d miss the annual Sachs Camping Trip!” Andy returned Miranda’s glare tenfold, her cheeks aching from the force of her grin.

Miranda’s eyes narrowed, clearly plotting how to best make Andy’s death look like an accident. “I see. Camping. Of course. How could I forget?”

Eugene sighed heavily. “Fine. I see how this is gonna go. I’ll see you both at 11:00 o’clock sharp, the Monday morning after your return. We’ll have your scheduled interview, and your answers had better match up on every account.”

“Yes. Well.” Miranda sniffed, “We look forward to it. I believe we can show ourselves out, thank you.”

They barely made it out the door before she felt Miranda yank on her arm, pulling her down the hallway with an unexpected strength. Andy yelped in surprise, “What the hell?”

Miranda didn’t respond. Instead, she continued to drag Andy through the building like a ragdoll, charging through hallways seemingly at random until she found a deserted corridor that was to her liking. Stopping abruptly, she whirled around to face Andy.

“What,” she hissed, “the hell was that?” Her eyes, normally so icy when displeased, were on fire.

“What do you mean, Miranda?” Andy asked sweetly.

“Don’t!–” Miranda's voice came out as a shout before stopping and covering her eyes with her hand. She took a deep breath and uncovered her face, looking back at Andy. “Do not toy with me, Andréa.” Her voice was low, “You’re quitting? Why? We had an agreement.” 

"Yeah, we had an agreement. We still do. But you made it pretty damn clear in that agreement that no matter what happens, my time as your assistant is over.”

Miranda raised her eyebrows. Clearly, she hadn’t thought about it that way. 

Andy listed her options off on her fingers as she went. “I refuse to marry you and you get deported? I’m fired. I refuse to marry you and you still somehow manage to get what you want, like you always do? I’m fired.” She was getting more annoyed with Miranda by the second. How could someone so smart be so incredibly stupid?

“And, if all of this somehow magically works out, I get to move to the publication of my choice. Well, my choice is The Mirror.” She put her hand on her hip, “All I’m doing is speeding up the inevitable, here. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t earned my reference and then some. What’s the longest you’ve kept any of your other assistants?”

Thinking it over, Miranda pursed her lips and sighed. “Fine.” Andy figured that was probably as close as she’d ever come to getting an apology.

After a beat of silence, Miranda shook her head, looking at Andy incredulously. “Camping?”

“Yes. Camping.” Andy nodded, “It’s a family tradition, every year before Thanksgiving. A tradition I was going to have to miss for the fourth year in a row, because someone decided at the last minute that I couldn’t go.” 

“Yes, and for good reason,” Miranda sounded exasperated. “Thanksgiving always falls during printing week, and Dani is barely competent enough to handle printing when she’s not ill.” Andy scowled, opening her mouth to defend her friend, but Miranda barrelled on. “Both of us leaving during the busiest week of the month is completely out of the question and you know it.” Andy did know it. Andy was also entirely too angry to give a shit.

“We’re not going. We’re not spending an entire god forsaken week in Cincinnati, of all places, and we are certainly not camping.” Miranda shuddered at the word.

“Fine,” Andy said. “It was nice working with you. I quit.” She turned and started walking.

Miranda groaned, trailing behind her. “You can’t honestly be serious. This is where you draw the line? Camping? Years of impossible requests and midnight coffee runs, and what finally makes you snap is camping?”

Andy rounded on her, and Miranda took a step back in surprise. “You really don’t get it, do you? Were you even listening back there? Let’s review. If this goes south, then I’m stuck with a $250,000 fine and five years in prison. Prison, Miranda. That goes way beyond any underhanded threats you’d like to make about blackballing me from the industry.”

Miranda’s eyes went wide.

Andy pointed at her, voice rising, “I’m putting my ass on the line for you, here. I’m risking everything for you, and you can’t do this one simple thing for me? You can’t give me just a little fucking leeway?” She was fuming.

For a moment Miranda just stared at her, an uncharacteristic look of slack jawed surprise upon her face. Blinking, she cleared her throat. “Alright,” she began slowly, “Fine. We will go to Cincinnati for the week. We will go camping. I’ll call Dani and have her arrange for our flights–”
Andy cut her off. “No. No flights. We’re driving.”

Miranda sighed deeply. “And why, may I ask, are we driving?” She began to rub her temples, “When a drive is bound to take at least ten hours, and I am perfectly capable of purchasing our plane tickets myself?”

“Because road trips are fun,” Andy replied. And because you'll hate it, Andy couldn't help but think spitefully.

“Fun.” Miranda deadpanned.  

“Yes. Fun.” She paused, thinking. “And because I need to bring my cat back with me.”

Miranda let out sudden a bark of laughter, and Andy nearly jumped in shock. “Of course you do. If we’re going to have all my other least favorite things lined up for next week, then why not throw in cats, as well?”

Andy rolled her eyes. “Are you gonna do it or not?”

“I don’t seem to have much of a choice, do I?” Miranda quipped, “Will there be anything else, Andréa?”

Andy ignored the sarcasm. “Yeah, actually, there is. You’re gonna see to it that my manuscript gets published. Not just ‘consider sending it to your friends in publishing’.” Andy crossed her arms, thinking again. “And I want a ring. A pretty one."

Miranda stared at her, aghast. “Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah,” Andy gave a little grin. “That’s all.”

— 

Chapter Text

Miranda was laid out on her beach towel, a small smile playing on her lips. The afternoon sun shone down warmly, and she felt a slight breeze moving through her hair. The four of them had decided to use their last full day in Sicily to simply relax. Much like every other area of her life, Miranda usually preferred a bit more structure on her vacations. However, Andréa had managed to lure the girls into the idea of a quiet beach day with promises of sand castles and sea shell hunting.

Her book lay abandoned in the sand next to her as she watched Andréa and Caroline swim nearby. Or rather, as Caroline attempted to swim while Andréa waded alongside her, offering encouragement.

Miranda had hired countless swimming coaches for her over the years, but there was nothing for it. Caroline was terrified of the water. Davis always blamed Miranda for it, as she herself refused to get into a body of water that came past her knees.

Miranda had no idea what Andréa had told Caroline to talk her into finally giving it a go in the Mediterranean Sea, of all places, but she knew better than to question it.

She turned to her left to see Cassidy spread out on her own towel, engrossed in a book as usual. Andréa had brought with her a few selections she thought the twins would particularly enjoy. Both of her children loved to read; however, Cassidy was undoubtedly the more bookish of the two. A quick glance told Miranda that today’s pick was Tuck Everlasting.

Miranda listened to the quiet sound of the waves lapping against the sand, and considered what a success the last few days had been. Inviting Andréa along had been a relatively last-minute decision, albeit one she had been considering for quite some time.

Miranda knew that she desperately needed to relax this week; a feat which was difficult for her even at the best of times. But she also knew that, with Andréa oceans away, her mind would never be fully at ease. Ever since that fateful day in the fall, that day Miranda tried so hard to forget, being separated from Andréa for more than a few days felt nothing short of unbearable.

She had almost lost Andréa that day. And of all the many days that had passed since then, not a single one went by when Miranda did not think of Andréa. Dream of her. Worry for her well-being. For her happiness , of all things. It was exceptionally irksome.

And so Miranda invited Andréa along on the trip. She told herself it was only to ease her anxiety, and told everyone else that it was only business. Both of these were only half-truths, however. 

For the real truth was that somehow, without even trying, Andréa had managed to do what so many before her had failed to; she had worked her way into the depths of Miranda Priestly’s heart. She made herself at home in each individual crack, settled herself into every little crevice. Without even meaning to, Andréa poured herself into Miranda’s very core, and made her feel whole in a way that she hadn’t felt in quite some time.

…

Miranda was jarred awake by the sound of her phone ringing. Like every day, her alarm this morning was set for 5:30am. She never worried about putting her phone on silent because usually, others calling before she awakened wasn’t an issue.

Who in god’s name is calling me this early?

Not even bothering to open her eyes, she grasped blindly on her nightstand in search of the offending noise. Finally, she found it. “ What? ” She snapped.

“Good morning, sunshine,” came Nigel’s voice over the line. “Aren’t we chipper this morning?”

“Nigel.” Miranda’s voice was gravelly with sleep as she spoke, “Make no mistake. Just because I no longer have the power to fire you does not mean that I can’t still make your life hell.”

“Ah, how I’ve missed our little chats,” he sounded downright cheery. “I’d almost forgotten how sweet you can be before you’ve been caffeinated.”

“May I ask why you are calling me at–” she grudgingly opened one eye to peek at the clock, and couldn’t help but groan. “–4:59 in the morning?”

“I’m not sure, Miranda,” Nigel said lightly. “May I ask when you were planning to tell me that you’re marrying our dear Andy?”

Well, now she was definitely awake. Miranda sat up, rubbing her eyes. She doubted that she’d managed even three hours of sleep the whole night. “I’m a little surprised it took you so long to find out, honestly,” she admitted, stifling a yawn. “I told Irv nearly twenty-four hours ago. It seems you’ve lost your touch.” She paused, tapping her lip in thought. “Who told you?”

“I’ll never tell,” Nigel replied smoothly. “But I will tell you that both Dani and Emily owe me a handsome sum.”

“What are you talking about?” It’s entirely too early for this , she thought.

“We had a wager, you see,” Nigel explained breezily, not sounding the least bit ashamed of the words that just fell from his mouth. “Couldn’t talk Serena into it of course, but Emily was absolutely convinced that you and Six were merely fucking.” 

Miranda’s eyes widened and she felt her heart begin to pound at his words, and not in anger. “I told you to stop calling her that,” she chided him, even though that wasn’t even half of the problem right now.

Nigel paid her no mind. “Obviously, I knew better than that,” he carried on as if Miranda hadn’t spoken. “Any idiot could see you’re head over heels for Andy. Well, not any idiot, apparently.” Miranda was stunned into silence, but Nigel didn’t seem to notice.

“Dani, though. Smart girl, that one. She knew as well as I did that there was something more between you two. She’s around you too much not to, really,” he admitted. “But she didn’t think the two of you would come clean until at least the New Year.” Nigel sounded entirely too pleased with himself, “She doesn’t know you like I do, though.”

“Nigel,” Miranda found her voice again, and worked to make it as frosty as possible. “Am I to understand that you were taking bets on my love life? With my employees ?”

“C’mon, Miranda.” Nigel’s good spirits were apparently not to be dampened this morning. “Live a little. You just earned me 500 bucks. And you got the girl! What do you say we take you out for drinks to celebrate later this week?”

Miranda was grinning widely, now. "You'll be home next week?" She had no idea, or she would have planned something already.

“I'd venture to say that London is my home now, but yes!” Nigel exclaimed. “We’ll be in town all next week. Kevin and I are popping by my family in Providence just long enough to say that we went, and we’ll be spending the rest of the week in the city.”

Miranda groaned. “Of course. The first time you come home in nearly a year, and I’ll be in Cincinnati, of all places.” She all but spat the word. “It would have been so nice to catch up with you,” she continued, sincerely upset at this revelation. “And Kevin. God, I don’t think I’ve seen him since your wedding.”

“Miranda,” Nigel’s voice softened, “I’m touched.” The two of them had been friends for nearly a quarter of a century at this point– he was one of the precious few people that Miranda genuinely enjoyed spending time with. Rarer still, Nigel was someone she trusted. 

He knew Miranda when she was still just Miranda. Not Miranda Priestly: the Ice Queen, the Editor-in-Chief. He knew things about her that no one else did, and never once had he attempted to use that as leverage against her.

In short, Nigel was her best friend. Not that she'd ever tell him that. “So... she roped you into meeting the family, then?” he asked carefully.

“Yes. And we’re going camping. Camping , Nigel.” Miranda’s voice came dangerously close to whining.

“Camping?” Nigel was clearly amused at this prospect. “You?” he let out an unflattering guffaw. 

She rolled her eyes, in no mood for his teasing. “Has anyone ever told you how unbearable you are?” Nigel roared with laughter while Miranda considered hanging up. 

She knew she wouldn't, though. It was a relief to finally talk about her situation with him. Or... most of her situation. She couldn't bring herself to tell Nigel just how incorrect he actually was about one key detail. To admit that Andréa had no interest in Miranda whatsoever, beyond what Miranda can provide for her in this deal they've hatched together. That by threatening Andréa and forcing her into this farce of a marriage, Miranda had officially destroyed any slim chance she might have had at real happiness with her.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Nigel’s voice still shook with laughter, “She’s truly forcing you to go camping? Has she ever even met you?” Miranda didn’t deign to respond, tracing the striped pattern of her azure and cream comforter with one finger and trying not to feel sorry for herself. She was in this situation because of her own choices.

“And what do the girls think about this development?” Nigel interrupted her internal spiral.

She sighed. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

There was a hum of acknowledgement from the other line. “Good luck with that one. Do they suspect?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, “You know that I can be subtle.”

Nigel tutted, “In the eighties, maybe.”

“Excuse me?” Miranda said, offended. “I–” 

“Miranda, you light up like a Christmas tree every time the girl walks into a room,” Nigel said seriously. “You took her to Sicily , for Christ's sake. The two of you can barely keep your eyes off each other, and let me tell you…” he paused, voice serious. 

“There’s nothing subtle about it, my friend. I’d been wondering for ages, but after that awful day last fall? When you went with her to the hospital? I knew. Absolutely no doubt about it, you were a goner.”

Miranda winced. She remembered that day vividly, though she tried not to.

Last year Andréa’s appendix burst while she was alone at the office, and, in fear of getting in trouble for leaving her desk, had waited so long to seek medical attention that she had very nearly died. “That was when I knew, too,” Miranda murmured truthfully.

She had gone with Andréa to the hospital, stayed waiting for hours until her surgery was complete– until the doctors were absolutely certain that she would be alright. That Andréa would live. “That day… changed things.” 

…

Her mind just flashed back to finding Andréa that day, face down in a puddle of her own sick, unconscious upon her desk.

To Andréa’s agonized groans that she tried to suppress once she came to in the ambulance, as they rushed to the emergency room. 

To how immediately calmed Andréa looked upon seeing that Miranda had insisted upon riding in the ambulance with her. 

To how tightly she held both Miranda’s shaking hands in her own as she lay on that gurney, rubbing her thumbs in a soothing, circular motion across the tops of Miranda’s knuckles– like Andréa was the one comforting Miranda, at this of all times– before they wheeled her pained form away for surgery. 

It was on that day that Miranda knew for certain: she no longer had any interest in a world that did not contain Andréa Sachs.

...

Miranda shook her head. Coffee. I need coffee. She was momentarily spared from the need to respond by the shrieking of the alarm next to her. Relieved for a reason to end the conversation, Miranda quickly told Nigel she needed to go.

“Just try to get back in time to see us,” he said cheerily. “A trip home wouldn’t be complete without getting to see you and the new Mrs. Priestly.” She rolled her eyes yet again, feeling thoroughly unamused. More like Priestly-Sachs. Or Sachs-Priestly? Hmm. 

Miranda really did hang up on him this time.

—

Andy stepped into the office Thursday morning to see the all too familiar sight of Serena and Emily chatting with Dani at her desk. Upon spotting Andy, Emily marched over to her.

“Andy.” Her voice was full of false sweetness, “I got a very interesting call this morning from Nigel. He said he had news, and he was so excited to share that he couldn’t wait to call until after 6 o’clock in the morning like a decent bloody human. Would you like to know what he told me?”

Andy had a pretty decent idea of where this was going. Sitting at her desk, she just nodded. Years of trial and error had taught Andy that it was usually best to just let Emily get it out of her system.

“He told me that you and Miranda are engaged,” Emily glared at her friend accusingly. “ Engaged , Andy.” She threw her hands up into the air, “Of course, I thought to myself, ‘No, Emily, that can’t be true. Don’t be ridiculous. After all, Andy would have had the decency to at least mention it to one of us if she were shacking up with our sodding boss .’ So imagine my surprise when I check the facts and, what do you know? Nigel was right .” Emily crossed her arms.

“When were you going to tell us, Andy?” came Dani’s gentle southern lilt from where she still sat at her desk. 

Andy winced. “I’m really sorry. I am. I just…” She thought quickly, “It wasn’t really my secret to tell, you know? Miranda wasn’t ready to come out of the closet, yet. I wasn’t going to force her.”  

Serena, who until now had been listening silently, spoke up. “That makes sense.” She gave Andy a searching look, concern still written on her features. “We worried that you didn’t trust us.”

Andy breathed a sigh of relief. “No, no. I just... wanted to respect Miranda’s privacy, that’s all. I’ve been outed, and it’s terrible. I’d never do that to someone.” Andy was impressed with herself. Usually her lying skills were god-awful at best.

Andy watched their faces as her friends considered her words for a moment. As usual, Emily was the first to speak up. “Well, now I feel like a right bloody bitch. Thanks, Andy.”

The look of hurt on Dani’s face had been replaced with one of contemplation, scratching at her short, coiled brown afro as she spoke. “Well, I guess that if you’re going to keep something so important from us for so long… then that’s a pretty good reason.”

“It’s okay, guys. Really,” Andy reassured them. She couldn’t help but feel touched by their concern, no matter how misled.

Serena chuckled, and they all turned to face her in surprise. “Don’t worry, Andy,” she said, still leaning against Dani’s desk. “We are all very happy for you. These two are just annoyed because they were stupid enough to make a bet with Nigel, and now they are both broke.”

The dirty looks shot at Serena by Emily and Dani only confirmed her statement. Andy snorted ungracefully, “ What? ”

“So! Spill, Andy.” Dani cut in quickly, “Which one of you proposed? You’ve got to tell us the story. And where’s your ring?”

Before Andy could call her friend out for her transparent attempt at a distraction, she saw Miranda walking through the doors. The group quickly righted themselves: hopping off of desks, straightening postures, patting down any flyaway hairs.

Hardly bothering to look up as she made her way across the office, Miranda tossed her things onto Dani’s desk before turning to survey the room. She pursed her lips. “Is there some sort of last minute meeting I wasn’t informed of?” she asked in that quiet way of hers.

“No, Miranda,” Dani said quickly. 

“Well.” Miranda cocked her head, “Then I fail to see why you’ve all flocked like a bunch of hens. Especially you, Serena,” she cut her icy gaze toward her. “When you have still failed to show me even one decent color palette for the upcoming issue. I suppose you’ve become desperate enough to seek advice from my assistants, now?”

“I–” Serena turned bright red. “No, Miranda. Sorry, Miranda. I’ll go work on that right now.” She turned to flee, but Miranda held up a hand. Serena stopped in her tracks, her confusion clear. Andy couldn’t blame her. While she did work in the beauty department... Emily was the head of makeup. Why wasn’t Miranda telling off her ?

“I’m only going to say this once,” Miranda started. She looked at Dani, Emily, and Serena in turn. Was Andy imagining things, or did Miranda’s lip curl slightly when her eyes met Serena’s? “I understand that you three are close with Andréa. And I know that Andréa and I are…” she wrinkled her eyebrows. “Well. That she’s my–” Miranda flapped a hand wordlessly.

“Fiancée?” Andy provided helpfully. 

“Yes.” Miranda huffed, “Just because Andréa is my fiancée does not mean that you should hope to receive any sort of special treatment. My expectations have not changed.” 

Andy was pretty sure that getting ‘special treatment’ from Miranda was the absolute last thing that any of her friends had expected. “That’s all.” Miranda retreated into her office before any of them could think up a response, and closed the door behind her. It looked like it would be yet another day of Miranda awkwardly ignoring Andy’s existence. From the way she’d been behaving since their return to Runway yesterday afternoon, you would think it was Andy who’d forced the engagement upon her.

Andy turned to see all three of her friends staring at her, thunderstruck, but she only shooed them silently. Miranda’s doors were glass, after all. Just because she closed them didn’t mean that she couldn’t see them lingering. 

Not three minutes later, though, Andy heard a little ping from her computer, and looked up to see a new message in the group chat.

[9:17 AM] EC: what. the HELL. was that???

[9:17 AM] DD: Did anyone else see the daggers being shot S’s way, or…?

[9:17 AM] EC: daggers?! no. daggers would have been a pleasant turkey day surprise. i think u mean butcher knives

[9:17 AM] EC: machetes

[9:18 AM] EC: wolverine claws

[9:18 AM] EC: tibetan throwing swords

Andy slapped a hand over her mouth, covering her fast growing grin at Emily’s signature dramatics. Andy had mostly attributed the extra frostiness to Miranda being… y'know... Miranda.

[9:18 AM] AS: Serena, did something happen?

[9:20 AM] DD: You still with us, S? =/

[9:21 AM] SB: No idea, but I think I may puke

[9:21 AM] EC: >:(

[9:21 AM] SB: Yes, definitely puking. Brb

[9:21 AM] EC: andy. whatever you did, FIX IT.

Andy rolled her eyes, sarcastic reply at the ready when a memory from yesterday hit her. In the car, on the way to Immigration. It had been a moment so brief, so glib, that Andy had forgotten it completely among other, more important things. ‘I’ve dated like… three different women since working for you– including Serena.’

Andy gasped quietly. “Shit.” Dani shot her a suspicious glance. 

[9:22 AM] DD: A… you didn’t happen to mention your history with S to M, did you?

Damn Dani and her and her perceptiveness. Andy shot her a guilty look over her computer screen, and Dani grimaced.

[9:23 AM] DD: So that’s a big ol ‘yes’, then

[9:23 AM] EC: no 

[9:23 AM] EC: not even andy is that idiotic

[9:23 AM] EC: right?

[9:24 AM] EC: andy?

Andy held her head in her hands and let out a groan. 

[9:25 AM] AS: Fuck. 

[9:25 AM] EC: you’ve got to be fucking joking

[9:25 AM] AS: I’m so sorry, Serena. I’ll go do damage control.

[9:25 AM] EC: good luck 

[9:25 AM] EC: if miranda doesn’t kill you, i will <3

[9:26 AM] DD: No pressure!

For probably the first time in Runway history, Andy opened the door to Miranda’s office without knocking. Telephone tucked between shoulder and ear, Miranda’s hands were busy typing away at her laptop, eyes darting across the screen. A perfectly shaped forelock fell into her face as she chewed the inside of her cheek, not seeming to notice Andy’s presence. 

Shutting the door behind her, Miranda glanced Andy’s way before returning her gaze to her work. Andy sauntered toward the desk, and, not waiting for an invitation, perched herself upon the chair in front of it. 

Miranda stopped typing, grabbing a pencil to write with before pausing. “Mmm, no. I don’t think so,” she muttered, bringing the pencil instead to her lips. 

She rubbed the very tip of the eraser against her lower lip, back and forth, moving in a senseless little pattern across the pale pink flesh. Andy’s breath caught. She followed the movement with her eyes, finding herself mesmerized.

Miranda finally brought pencil to paper, and the spell was broken. Andy squinted to see what she was writing-- names and numbers for people Andy’d never heard of. Miranda glanced impatiently at Andy once more.

Not wanting to get caught staring again, Andy let her gaze wander to the rest of the space. Miranda’s office hadn’t changed much during Andy’s time at Runway . The same books lined her window sills, some written in English, some in French– all of them related to fashion and design. Andy often wondered if Miranda had actually read all of them, or if she just enjoyed the aesthetic.

The walls were covered in framed, mostly black and white photography. Filled with scenes from various foreign cities that Andy had never been to, but that Miranda almost certainly had. 

The few photos that did have people in them were very… impersonal about it. Models facing away from the camera, contorted so that their faces were cropped out or faded. Their identities were inconsequential, never the photos' center.

In fact, there was only one picture in the entire office where human beings were the focus. A lone silver frame sat on Miranda’s desk, showcasing a photo of Cassidy and Caroline, dressed up and smiling, undoubtedly for some professional photographer or other. The empty spot next to the girls used to hold a framed picture of Stephen.

Well, at least that was one thing that had changed since Andy’s arrival. Good riddance. The click of Miranda's phone returning to its receiver didn't even register in Andy's brain. 

"Can I help you?" Miranda's voice, edged with irritation, finally pulled Andy out of her musings. She didn’t even look at Andy, she kept her eyes on the scrap of paper she had been writing notes on.

"I have one more condition," Andy said without preamble. 

"Absolutely not," Miranda shook her head, speaking even more quietly than usual. "Our agreement has already been made."

"C'mon," Andy gave her sweetest grin, leaning in a bit and attempting to meet her gaze. "It's just the one. And this one's easy."

Miranda sighed, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. " What , Andréa.” She looked this time at the space next to Andy’s face, still not quite looking at her. “You know I don't have time for this." 

Straight to the point, then. "Serena."

Miranda's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she uncrossed her arms. "What about Serena?" 

"It's not Serena’s fault that she's my ex." Andy said carefully. 

Narrowed eyes rolled irritably. "I beg to differ." 

Andy huffed, running an anxious hand through her hair. "Okay, allow me to rephrase. It's not Serena's fault that her ex is now engaged to the boss." 

"And you are bothering me with this riddle because…?"

God, this was painful. "Just… it's not her fault. Please don't take it out on her. Okay?" 

Miranda's cheeks pinkened as she glanced at the door. "And why," she leaned forward, enunciating each whispered syllable with care, "Should I care who my faux fiancé used to date?" 

"I–" Shit. Miranda had a point. Was Andy imagining things? "Just– please." Andy's face was on fire at this point. "Promise." 

Miranda studied her silently, and for a moment Andy wondered if she was going to call the whole thing off then and there. "Fine." She turned her chair facing away from Andy. “That’s all.”

Andy felt her chest lighten. "Thanks!" She got out of there as fast as she could without falling on her size four ass. 

[9:39 AM] AS: dragon = tamed 

—

Miranda and her eleven-year-old daughters were sitting outside a quaint, mostly empty little ice cream shop just a few blocks from the townhouse. The Thursday afternoon was a surprisingly beautiful one for November, and she had slipped out of the office sooner than usual in order to spend it with her girls.

“So,” Caroline asked, “What’s the bad news?” She spooned a small mountain of strawberry ice cream into her mouth.

Miranda had spent the better part of last night lying awake, trying to figure out how to tell Caroline and Cassidy about the engagement. She spent hours debating with herself, deciding exactly how much to tell them– in fact, she’d even debated whether to tell them at all. By the time she came to a decision it was well past one in the morning. Again. 

Miranda raised her eyebrows in shock. “What on Earth makes you think I have bad news? I never said anything of the sort.” Does twin telepathy work on parents, too? Miranda wondered dumbly not for the first time.

“Mom. You’ve taken us out for ice cream like… five times. Tops.” Cassidy said from Miranda’s other side, “And every time, you’ve either told us that someone died, or that you were getting a divorce.” Her daughter shoveled in another bite of chocolate chunk ice cream.

“And you don’t have anyone to get divorced from, so… who died?” Caroline finished for her sister, in the way that Miranda had always found slightly unnerving.

Miranda sat back in her chair, impressed. “You’re more observant than I give you credit for, Bobbseys.”

“Duh,” said Caroline around a mouthful of ice cream. Miranda scowled.

“Sorry,” she muttered, not looking sorry in the slightest.

“Still,” Miranda said, “You’re only half right. The news isn’t bad. Not necessarily.” Miranda paused, taking a bite of her own small portion of low fat pistachio ice cream before continuing. “Mommy is getting married. Soon.”

Miranda watched as her daughters glanced at one another quickly before proceeding to stare into their ice cream dishes as if, suddenly, they were the most interesting things they had ever beheld. Oh, dear.

She folded her hands together in her lap, waiting. Finally, Cassidy spoke up. “How soon?” she asked her bowl.

“Well. We haven’t decided upon a date yet, but it will be before the year is out. Early to mid-December, I imagine. January at the latest.”

“So… who is he?” Cassidy began picking at her nail polish, studying the table intently.

Both girls were determinedly looking anywhere but at their mother. Miranda sighed, resisting the urge to wring her hands and failing. “As a matter of fact–”

Miranda was interrupted by Caroline, always the more hot-headed of her two. “I thought you said it wasn’t bad news,” she growled quietly, finally looking up at her mother. “Why are you doing this? Everything is finally so good . Why are you trying to mess it all up? Aren’t you happy?” There were tears sparkling in the eyes so like her own. 

Miranda flinched. “I am happy, darling,” she said quickly. “So happy. This time with just the three of us has been lovely. But–” she was cut off again.

“But what? But it’s not enough?” Caroline demanded, “You told us the reason you married Stephen was to give us a father figure. To give us a ‘proper family’, or whatever. But we already told you that we don’t need that!”

Miranda was suddenly very grateful for the relative emptiness of the surrounding street, as well as the shop behind them. “You were miserable when you were with Stephen. I remember. We both do,” 

Caroline’s voice cracked, glancing quickly toward her sister for confirmation. “You never ever smiled, and you barely hugged us. We never even saw you then. Why would you want that again?” she covered her face with her hands.

Miranda turned numbly towards Cassidy, who was still staring quietly at the table. Her ears were bright red, eyebrows furrowed tightly. “Well?” she asked quietly.

Cassidy sniffled. “Does it matter what I say? We told you that we don’t want another step dad,” her lip quivered slightly. “You already know, but I guess you don’t care.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. No one moved to touch their ice cream.

After a while of this, Caroline slowly uncovered her face, the rims of her eyes pink. “You still haven’t told us who he is,” she said flatly.

Miranda took a long pull from her coffee, seeking out any small comfort she could find. She wanted a cigarette. “Ah– yes. About that. I don’t really know how to say…” She paused, looking at both of her daughters in turn. 

Just breathe, she reminded herself. “It isn’t a he, as a matter of fact. It’s– um. A she. It's a woman.”

Miranda’s heart raced at her own words, and she felt ridiculous. She’d had no problem whatsoever proclaiming her love for Andréa in Irv’s office yesterday morning. But now, telling her own children, she felt on the verge of a panic attack. Perhaps the extra caffeine had been a poor choice.

Her daughters looked at each other before turning towards their mother once more. “Oh,” they said in unison. Miranda smoothed down her blouse absentmindedly, giving them a moment to process. 

“Well… who is she, then?” Cassidy finally asked.

“Andréa.”

“Oh.” They repeated. 

“Andy?” Caroline asked, “ Andy Andy? Sicily Andy?” As if there was some other Andy in their lives.

“I like Andy,” Cassidy said quietly. “She still lends me books she thinks I’ll like.”

“I like her, too.” Caroline piped in, offering no explanation. The mood had lightened considerably.

It was as if the events of the last ten minutes had never transpired. Miranda blinked. Her children certainly did know how to go from zero to one hundred and back again.

“Well, that’s lovely to hear,” she said cautiously, before jerking her head towards the sidewalk. “Let’s head back for supper, shall we?”

They made it four whole minutes into their walk before the questioning began. “So, you’re a lesbian now?” Caroline asked bluntly.

Miranda choked on her coffee. Coughing, she leaned against a nearby wall while she caught her breath. “ What? ” she said hoarsely.

“Are you gay?” Caroline had always shared Miranda’s own aversion to mincing words.

“No, dummy,” interjected Cassidy. “She’s bisexual. She’s been married three times. To men .”

“Yeah, and she’s been divorced three times. From men .” Caroline said defensively, “You’re the dummy.”

Miranda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “ Girls ,” she hissed, “We are not bickering about my sexual orientation in the middle of the street.” Paranoid, she glanced over her shoulder, but no one so much as spared them a glance. “For god’s sake.” She began walking once again, a daughter to each side.

“We wouldn’t have to bicker about it if you’d answer the question,” Cassidy pointed out slyly.

Miranda sighed. The topic of her sexuality was one she avoided.

For a moment she considered lying to her children, but what was the point? After all, she was about to marry a woman. The whole world would know soon enough. Besides, Miranda was sick to death of lying. She had been lying her entire life, and that weighed on a person.

There were several minutes of quiet strolling before Miranda finally spoke. “To answer your question, I…” she took a steadying breath. “I suppose you could call me that, yes. A... a lesbian, I mean.” 

The word felt foreign on her tongue. The term, no matter how technically correct, had always felt like an itchy woolen sweater– two sizes too small and suffocating. Not to mention terribly out of fashion. She preferred not to describe her sexuality at all. It hadn’t been a relevant topic in her life for decades, now. “It's not… incorrect.”

“Told you,” Caroline said smugly.

Cassidy craned her neck around Miranda to stick her tongue out at her sister. Miranda rolled her eyes. Of all the things to argue about.

“But you were with boys, Mom. When you like boys and girls that means you’re bi,” Cassidy was pouting now. “That’s what they said on South of Nowhere .”

Miranda squeezed her daughter’s hand, skin still slightly chilled from holding her ice cream earlier. “Sometimes these things aren’t so simple.” Cassidy simply shrugged in response, clearly not yet ready to end her pout.

“Does that mean you didn’t like dad, then?” Caroline asked from Miranda’s other side.

Why was I cursed with intelligent offspring?

Blessedly, she was granted a few minutes to stall as they walked up the front steps to the townhouse. Miranda took her time putting away jackets and shoes before turning on the home security system. 

The aroma of the dinner, left warm for them by their chef, wafted in from the kitchen. She continued her leisurely pace as she plated their meal of grilled chicken and asparagus, and watched with amusement as her daughters rushed to set the table.

As they sat around the kitchen table, Caroline had clearly grown tired of waiting. “So? Did you?” She asked without preamble.

Miranda sighed. She had truly never expected to have this conversation with her children. “Yes, Bobbsey. I liked your father. I loved him, even. He was one of Mommy’s very best friends.” That much was true. She and Davis had met in the early nineties and hit it off immediately.

They were friends for years before Davis began to fall for Miranda, and before Miranda– recently divorced and with a serious case of baby fever– decided to let him. They got along so swimmingly as friends, what difference did it make if Miranda wasn’t in love? After all, she'd told herself, she loved him dearly as a friend. That ought to be enough.

As it turned out, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough, for either of them.

At first, their marriage had been perfectly fine. Not much had changed, really. They were both still devoted to their careers, still working the same long hours and late nights as before. They still joked and talked, still made time to see one another when they could. 

So what if sex was a dull, unsatisfactory chore? All things considered, Miranda mostly just felt like she was living with her best friend.

Things got even better when, just a few months into their marriage, Miranda became pregnant. Davis didn’t question Miranda when her attitude towards sex shifted immediately from ‘rarely ever willing’ to ‘absolutely never willing’. They were both over the moon in their excitement to be parents, and bonded over things like nursery decorations and parenting books. 

And, in the months after the girls were born, they were both so constantly busy and exhausted that they likely couldn’t have mustered up the energy for sex even if they’d wanted to.

On the surface, they made the perfect family. Both Davis and Miranda loved their daughters desperately, and were as active in their lives as two people with high powered careers could possibly be. When one looked deeper, however, the holes began to show.

Miranda stopped making any attempt to spend quality time with Davis; any time not spent working was always spent with their children. Davis grew less and less understanding about Miranda’s ‘less is more but none is better’ attitude toward sex. As time wore on, it became increasingly obvious that neither of them were happy. 

Miranda, determined to raise their daughters in a loving, two-parent household, was willing to push through it for the sake of being a family. Davis was not. They were divorced before the girls even made it to preschool.

Miranda frowned, aware of her daughters’ eyes on her as she formulated a response. “I suppose I just didn’t love him as much as I should have,” she finally said. 

It felt strange, being open with her children about something as personal as this. Normally, she would never condone it... but she was currently at a loss for what else to do. There wasn’t exactly a ‘coming out to your children’ how-to manual. Was there?

“So you mean you liked him as a friend, but you didn’t like -like him?” Cassidy cocked her head.

“That happened to me one time,” Caroline nodded seriously. “Michael Stout asked to be my boyfriend last year, and I thought about telling him yes, because he’s funny and cool and we’re both Gryffindors.” She shrugged. “But then I told him no, because I only liked him. Not like -like.” 

Miranda raised her eyebrows, impressed by how quickly her daughters understood. “…Yes, I suppose that’s one way you could put it. I didn’t… what was it?”

“ Like -like him.” They said in unison.

“Right,” Miranda nodded slowly, “I didn’t like- like your father.” She took another bite of her asparagus as the girls continued to interrogate her.

“What about Stephen?” Caroline asked, “Did you like -like him? ‘Cause usually it didn’t even seem like you liked him like a friend.”

“Or what about that other guy?” Cassidy added, “That one before Dad, who didn't wanna have kids so you dumped him? Did you like -like him?”

“Ah– well,” Miranda’s head was beginning to pound from hearing the word ‘like’ so many times in one sitting. “I suppose I liked both of them for a short while, yes. But no, I never… like- liked them, either.” This conversation couldn’t end soon enough.

“So you didn’t like -like dad or that other guy,” Cassidy continued, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, “And you definitely didn’t like -like Stephen. But you do like -like Andy?”

“I– well–” Miranda blushed profusely at the directness of the question, once again feeling ridiculous. “Yes,” she whispered, hoarsely but honestly. Admitting it out loud made her heart pound, but she felt the corner of her lips twitch nonetheless.

She cleared her throat, a little more sure of herself this time. “Yes, I do.”

Both of her daughters nodded, small little smiles lighting up their faces. “Cool.”

—

It was Friday night, and Andy was pretending to watch American Idol when she heard the knock on her door. She all but ran to answer it, and sighed in relief at who she saw.

“God, thank you so much for coming over, Lily.” Andy squeezed her into a hug before grabbing her hand and leading her back to the little nest of blankets Andy had created for herself on her worn leather sofa. Andy collapsed back into the warmth, dragging Lily down with her before leaning her head on her best friend’s shoulder.

She was exhausted. Miranda’s revenge for Andy’s surprise camping trip reveal had been forcing her to run around the city like a crazy person, buying every bit of designer camping gear that Miranda could possibly think up. (Which was a lot. The list she had Andy compile this morning was five pages, front and back).

“It’s no problem, hon,” Lily gave her head a little pat as she got comfy in the blanket nest. “But what the hell happened? You’re a mess.”

Andy groaned. “God, I know. Honestly, the whole thing’s so crazy that I don’t even know where to begin.”

Lily reached for Andy’s glass of wine and handed it to her gingerly before pouring one for herself. “This seems like a pretty good place to start.”

Andy took a generous swallow. “Alright, but, you have to promise not to say anything until I’m done. Deal?”

Lily rolled her eyes but agreed. “Deal.”

So Andy started at the beginning, and told Lily everything that had happened since Wednesday, when Miranda casually altered the orbit of Andy's entire existence before lunch. 

It took much longer than she expected, but it was just as cathartic as she’d hoped it would be.

Lily was quiet for a moment, a look of blinking, wide-eyed bewilderment on her face as she took everything in. She'd kept her promise and remained silent for the entire tale. “Shit,” she finally said. 

“Yeah,” Andy agreed, “Shit. And I haven’t even told you the worst part.”

“What?” Lily said incredulously, “How the hell could it possibly get–” her head tilted to the side in thought. “Oh. You mean how incredibly down bad you are for her?” she asked matter-of-factly.

Andy hid her face in the blanket.

“Yeah.” Lily sighed as Andy peeked her head back out, “I’d be lying if I said I was surprised, but this isn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

“What, you weren’t anticipating a wedding announcement?” Andy said dryly as she moved to pour them both another glass of wine, “Why not?”

Lily ignored her attempt at humor, meeting Andy's eyes. “Honestly?” she said seriously, “I thought I was coming here tonight for you to finally tell me that you two were together. Like, actually together. It's this 'fake-relationship-for-citizenship' shit that's throwing me for a loop."

“ What? ” Andy’s eyes went wide with shock, even as she felt a flutter in her chest at the words. “Why would you think that?”

This time Lily did laugh. “You’re joking, right? Ands, you may not have noticed, but you’re kind of obsessed with her. She’s, like, all you’ve talked about for the last three years.” Seeing Andy’s look of outrage, she raised her free hand in surrender. 

“I’m not judging, babe,” Lily reassured her. “I’m just saying. You're so obviously in love with her. Or… it's obvious to me, anyway.” She paused to take a healthy sip of her wine before continuing, now with a sly grin. “It's also probably obvious to any person who's spent more than ten minutes in your presence. But I can really only speak to my own experience.” 

Andy laughed, giving her a little shove before leaning back into the pillows piled up behind her. “I guess it's been obvious to just about everyone except for me, huh? Sometimes I’m pretty sure that Roy even suspects. If nothing else it'll look good for Immigration at least."

“Yeah, there is that,” Lily agreed with a yawn.

Andy sighed, “God, I hope it's not that obvious to her, though . ” 

“Why not?” Lily asked, sitting up on one elbow to look at Andy inquisitively.

“I– because– I…” Andy spluttered for a response. “I don’t– what do you mean, ‘why not?’” she said lamely. “You know why not.” She popped an Oreo in her mouth to give herself an excuse to stop talking.

“No, I really don't. Please, tell me.” Lily stared and waited while Andy slowly chewed and swallowed her cookie, and took another sip of wine before finally answering.  

“Because she's never going to feel the same way as I do,” Andy said matter-of-factly. “Obviously. I'm just an assistant.” 

“The fuck are you talking about, dude?” She set down her wine glass on the coffee table. Lily always talked with her hands during important conversations. 

“Bitch, the woman took you with her to Sicily . On a private vacation. With her kids! I don’t have to know Miranda Priestly personally to know that she doesn’t usually bring her employees along for family trips. You know why? Because no one does that.”

Andy opened her mouth to protest, but Lily cut her off. “And don’t even try spouting that nonsense about her needing you to make a deal with those Italian designers for her,” Lily admonished before Andy could say just that. 

“Because I happen to know for a fact that the whole deal took you less than a day, and that you spent the rest of the week lounging around on some gorgeous beach in gorgeous designer swimwear with her and her gorgeous kids.” She raised an accusatory eyebrow. “I do know how to use Facebook, you know.”

“Okay, but she’s straight , Lily.” Andy knew she was whining now, but she was past the point of caring. She deserved to whine a little, god dammit.

“Has she ever actually said that?” Lily asked.

Andy rolled her eyes, “Of course she–” Wait. Had she? 

Andy thought back on their conversation in the car. Before that. Every conversation she could think of with Miranda in the last three years where it might have maybe, possibly come up. “Well… Miranda’s never said that she doesn't date women, but–” 

“--Ha!” Lily cackled triumphantly.

“But that doesn't mean that she's queer! Maybe she just knew that it was so obvious that she's straight that it didn't even bear saying.” The words sounded lame even to Andy's own ears.

“Okay, Andy. Sure.” Lily gave a resigned sigh, clearly not buying it either. “Have you told anyone else about this yet?”

“Uh…”

“Like say, oh, I don’t know… the parents who you plan on forcing into hosting your new little family next week?” Lily looked at her pointedly.

“Yeah,” Andy began, “Well… um, about that. I was kind of hoping that I could…” she gave Lily her best puppy eyes.

Lily just chuckled. “Alright, alright. But we’re gonna need more wine for this.” She left the couch and headed toward the kitchen.

Having been friends for two decades at this point, Lily and Andy had developed little traditions over the years. One of these long standing traditions consisted of one friend sitting quietly alongside the other, offering silent support while her friend made a particularly difficult phone call. 

They had continued this tradition through twenty years of break ups, coming-outs, bad test results, and one particularly jarring pregnancy scare. Having her best friend by her side didn’t really make the news any easier to bear, but Andy desperately needed the comfort that having her nearby provided.

After Andy had returned from Paris three years ago to find Nate gone, she also quickly found that Lily no longer wanted anything to do with her. Losing her best friend hurt even more than losing her long-term boyfriend, and the months following their abrupt departure were some of the hardest of Andy’s life.

It had taken six months for them to finally get over themselves long enough to reunite. It was Lily’s birthday, and Andy took a chance by showing up at her apartment bearing gifts of red velvet cake and heartfelt apologies. 

It took many tears and more than a few glasses of wine, but they both eventually admitted to being very different people than the two best friends that moved to the Big Apple together, and agreed that growth was just another part of life. They promised to never let something so trivial come between them again.

Lily plopped down next to her, a fresh bottle of wine and box of Oreos in hand. 

“Ready?” Lily said around a mouthful of cookies.

Andy snorted. “Nope! Let’s do this.” She dialed her parents’ home number before she could change her mind.

Her dad picked up after the second ring. “Hey sweetie. Is everything okay?”

Andy looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 11:00 pm. Whoops.

“Oh, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Andy said hopefully, “Sorry, I can call back later if I need to.” She crossed her fingers as Lily elbowed her in the ribs.

“No, no. What’s up, honey?” His voice was full of concern.

“Oh, well, I called because I’ve got some good news,” Andy said as brightly as she could, “There's been some more reshuffling at work, and it turns out I can come home for Thanksgiving after all.”

“Really? That’s great, Dandy!” She heard Lily chuckle quietly next to her at the use of Andy’s childhood nickname. “How’d you manage that?”

“Uh, I just got lucky, I guess?” Andy really was a terrible liar. “And uh, I… I have some other news, too.”

“Hello?” Andy wanted to groan as she heard her mother’s voice come through the phone. Andy had called the landline, so she must have picked up a phone in another room.

“Oh, uh, hi Mom!” Andy tried not to sound too frantic. She had been desperately hoping to delegate the task of telling her about Miranda to her father.

“Pam, Andy just got done telling me that she gets to come home next week after all!” Her dad said excitedly, “Isn’t that great news?”

“Oh my god, really? That’s fantastic, baby!” Her mom exclaimed, “I’m surprised that woman let you get away,” her mother continued, “But I suppose she has gone a little easier on you lately, hasn’t she?”

Andy laughed nervously. “Yeah– yup! She sure has.”

“Please kill me,” She mouthed to Lily, whose only response was a silly smile.

“Andy was about to tell me some other news right before you picked up,” her dad said. “What was it, sweetie?”

“Well, I was kind of wondering if it might be okay if I maybe… uh, brought someone with me?” She could barely get the words out.

“That would be wonderful,” her mom’s voice was full of warmth, and Andy felt absurdly guilty for lying to her. “We’ll be happy to have them.”

“Great. That’s great. Thanks so much, guys. There is one more thing though,” Andy said breathlessly. “Uh. She has two kids. Would it be alright if they came along, too?”

There was a slight pause while her parents processed this information. Andy had never before dated anyone with children, after all.

“Wow,” Her dad replied, “Kids, huh? It must be serious, then.” He sounded pleased. “How long have you two been together?”

Shit. She turned wide-eyed toward Lily, who shrugged incredulously while grabbing herself another handful of Oreos. 

“Thanks a lot,” Andy mouthed, rolling her eyes. Lily popped a cookie in her mouth, unbothered.

“Oh, just a few months,” That was a reasonable amount of time, right?

“Well, we’re excited to meet all three of them,” her mom said. “How did you meet her?”

No use in lying more than she had to. “Work,” she said vaguely.

“Oh, is she a model then?” Her dad joked.

Andy forced a laugh. “Ha. Uh, no, not quite.”

“Well who is she, sweetie?” asked her mom, “What’s her name?” She sounded so genuinely happy for her. Ugh. “Have you talked about her before?”

“Uh. Yup, sure have! A few times, actually.” Andy laughed nervously. “She’s. Uh.” Fuck it. “She’s Miranda. Uh, Priestly.”

There was another pause, this one much more charged than the last. Andy took the opportunity to snatch some Oreos from the box that Lily was currently cradling against her chest like a baby.

Andy held her breath.

“Miranda Priestly? Your boss , Miranda Priestly?” There was a tremble to her mom’s voice, now.

Right, because there’s just so many other Miranda Priestly’s in my life , Andy mused. Or in the world, for that matter.

“Yup,” she twirled a strand of her hair around her index finger anxiously, “That’s the one.”

The silence coming from the other line was deafening. Lily reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Uh. Hello?” Andy tried, “Are you guys still there?”

Her mother gave a deep sigh. “I thought we raised you better than this, Andrea.” She spoke in that tight, angry tone that never failed to make Andy feel eight years old again whenever she heard it.

“Andy, your boss? ” The disappointment in her father’s voice was palpable.

“I know what it sounds like,” Andy said, “I know. But you said so yourself, Mom: things have been different lately. She’s been different.” It was true. Before all of this engagement crap, Miranda was downright pleasant towards Andy nowadays. Pleasant for Miranda, anyway.

Andy heard a click.

“Hello? Mom? Dad?” Her stomach contracted in an anxious squeeze. Did they really just hang up on her?

“I think she’s just going to need some time, honey.” She heard her dad say.

Well, at least one of them doesn’t hate me, she thought. 

“I guess,” she sighed. “So… should we even bother coming?”

“Of course, Andy. I’ll talk to her.” He paused. “So, things between you and Miranda… they’re serious, then?”

“Yes. They are. She’s… she’s wonderful, Dad. She can be the world's biggest pain in the ass sometimes, believe me, but…” Andy hesitated, “She makes me happy.” 

Andy felt her throat tighten at the words, noting how true they felt. “Being with her makes me happy.” She saw Lily raise her eyebrows next to her, a concerned look on her face. Andy's vision blurred with tears. 

“Well then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” He said softly. “Like I said, your mother just needs some time. To process, you know?”

Andy sniffled. “I know. Thanks, Dad. I’ll call you later to work out the specifics, okay?”

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. Night.” She hung up, and felt Lily scoot closer to her on the couch.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

Andy felt tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and shook her head.

Lily pulled her into a hug, and they sat like that for a while. Eventually, Andy was able to get it together, and she pulled away.

“Thanks, Lils.” She wiped her nose. “I really didn’t expect to get this emotional.”

Lily just nodded, understanding. “Any time.”

They sat quietly for a few more minutes, and Andy started to feel sleepy. She looked at the clock. It was almost midnight, now.

“Do you wanna just sleep here tonight?” she asked.

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” Lily yawned hugely. “There’s no way in hell I’m staying awake long enough to take the subway home. Mind if I smoke on the porch again, or are you gonna make me go all the way outside?” Lily gave puppy eyes of her own, now. “I promise I’ll throw away the butt this time instead of littering like an irresponsible citizen.”

Andy laughed, shaking her head at the dramatics. “Fine. Go smoke your cancer stick outside, and I’ll find you a t-shirt or something to sleep in.” She smiled. “I can’t remember the last time we had a sleepover.”

“Yeah,” Lily retorted, “That would be because you talk just as much when you’re asleep as you do when you’re awake. It’s creepy as hell.”

“Feel free to sleep on the couch, then,” Andy joked as she got up to head towards her bedroom.

“Not on your life,” Lily said, following her. “I’d rather deal with your sleep talking than the back ache I’m gonna get if I stay on that awful couch any longer than I have to.”

Andy just laughed. “My couch is perfectly comfy, thank you. You and I both know the only reason you don’t like it is because I got it from Emily.” Lily had never been quiet about her intense dislike for the Andy's closest work friend.

She claimed it was just because Emily’s high-strung personality grated against her own, considerably more laid-back one. That was probably true, but Andy knew that there was more than a little jealousy there, too. After all, it had been during the months that Lily was absent from her life that Andy and Emily had grown close.

Emily received her well-deserved promotion to Assistant Makeup Director just two months after Paris Fashion Week, leaving Andy as first assistant after less than a year’s worth of experience. 

Following their respective promotions, the two had slowly but surely gone from begrudging coworkers to good friends.

It turned out that Emily was a lot more bearable outside the office. Her dramatics were actually pretty damn hilarious when they didn’t result in Andy constantly feeling like her job was on the line. (Serena forcing them to hang out hadn’t hurt things, either).

Lily hated being called out on her jealous tendencies. So naturally, Andy teased her about it whenever she got the chance.

“Oh shut up, Dandy .” Lily didn’t even bother denying it like she normally would as she made her way towards the balcony door.

Later, when they’d finally laid down and turned out the lights, Andy’s brain drifted towards Miranda. Andy wondered who she had to lean on, if anyone. Who did Miranda call when her world was crashing down around her? Andy wracked her brain, but the only person to come to mind was Nigel. One friend was better than none, Andy guessed, but not much. Especially when that one friend was an ocean away.

She didn’t even have family to talk to about it– Miranda had said herself that her only family was her girls, and it wasn’t like she was going to ask two preteens for advice on her love life. Sure, she didn’t have the added stress of explaining her new, much younger fiancée who was also her assistant to her parents, but… did that really make up for being alone in the world?

Andy shook her head. This was so not her problem. What did she care if Miranda had no one to cry to about the stress of coming out to her children? She had brought this upon herself, hadn’t she?

Andy heard the familiar sound of her best friend’s soft snoring next to her and was reminded of the late hour. She grabbed a pillow and held it tight, willing sleep to come. She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to think of anything but Miranda Priestly.

—

Chapter Text

Miranda sat in her kitchen Sunday morning, cradling a cup of coffee while gazing at the sunrise out the breakfast nook window. Watching deep blacks and purples fade slowly into the pale blues and pinks of day, she pondered the week to come.

She had been up for hours. Since the beginning of her engagement to Andréa she had hardly slept, and after four sleepless nights, exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. Miranda was certainly no stranger to bouts of insomnia, but until recently she’d managed to break free from its clutches for quite some time. 

Last night, at least, her restlessness had served a purpose. She wiled away the hours by packing and repacking their various suitcases, preparing herself for the upcoming week in any little way that she could. Not that there was any way to truly be prepared for spending a week with her in-laws to be. She had burned through three sets, now. None of them had particularly liked her, and the feeling had been mutual.

She doubted that this experience would prove to be much different. Even at the best of times, Miranda knew that she wasn’t exactly likeable– and being forcibly surrounded by strangers in Middle of Nowhere, Midwest, most certainly was not Miranda Priestly at her best.

In fact, she had a sinking feeling that this particular meeting would manage to be even worse than those with in-laws’ past. It didn’t take a genius to notice that Miranda was closer in age to Andréa’s parents than she was to Andréa herself.

Not to mention that they would be in the woods for three days. And two nights. Try as she might, Miranda couldn’t think of any way to get out of the experience without losing her engagement to Andréa in the deal. 

Instead, Miranda had settled for sending her gallivanting around Manhattan the last few days, in search of things like two-bedroom tents, portable coffee makers, and solar-powered charging stations. 

Miranda needed an excuse to keep Andréa out of the office, anyway. 

And the girls were ecstatic about the whole thing, of course. The two of them had been trying for years to get Miranda to join them on their annual camping trips with their father. How she had managed to give birth to two outdoor enthusiasts was beyond her.

Miranda had lived in cities her entire life. Over the course of her existence her interactions with nature had been minimal, and she had hoped to keep it that way. Between her allergies, aversion to dirtiness, and general fear of all things that crawl... she would much rather keep her feet planted firmly on the concrete, thank you.

She heard footsteps and looked up to see Cassidy, fully dressed, trotting into the kitchen. “When is Andy getting here?” she asked without preamble.

Miranda raised her eyebrows. “Good morning to you, too,” she glanced at her watch. It was barely 6:00am. “I’d say we have at least another hour. Is Caroline awake?”

“Yup! I woke her up a little while ago. She’s repacking her travel-bag for the car. She changed her mind about a couple of the books she wanted to bring, I think.” Cassidy opened the fridge, grabbing herself a yogurt before moving to sit next to Miranda at the kitchen table.

“And what about you?” Miranda asked, “Are you ready?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cassidy nodded. Ever the morning person, she spoke at top speed. “I’ve been ready for ages. Hey, did you know that Andy has a little niece and nephew? She told us on the phone yesterday. She says that they’re both really cute.” She ate a spoonful of yogurt before continuing. “I’ve always wanted cousins. And she said that she has a surprise for us before we get to Ohio. What do you think it is? Did she tell you?” Cassidy looked at her with wide eyes.
Andréa hadn’t told her anything of the sort. 

Before Miranda could respond, however, a pajama-clad Caroline padded into the kitchen. “Maybe it’ll be a dog,” Caroline mused, voice still groggy with sleep. “She said it’s something that all three of us will really like, and we all really like dogs.” She grabbed a bowl from a nearby cabinet before searching for her cereal.

Cassidy shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. If we were gonna take a dog with us to Cincinnati, then why not just take Patricia? Besides, she said we’re bringing her cat Marshmallow home with us.” 

Cassidy paused for a moment, scooting over as her sister sat down next to her, bowl of cereal in hand. “Maybe she’ll take us to the Lady Gaga concert that’s in Pittsburgh tonight. We have to drive through Pennsylvania to get to Ohio, anyway. Plus, we all love her!”

“Right,” Miranda said sarcastically. The girls had quickly developed an obsession with Gaga since the release of her debut album, and insisted upon listening to her music at every available opportunity. 


“Whatever, Mom. I totally heard you singing along to Poker Face last week,” Caroline joked, pointing her spoon at Miranda in accusation.

“You heard no such thing,” Miranda said dismissively, standing up. “Hurry up and eat. We still have things to do before Andréa gets here.”

—

It was a bright and beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the cars were honking, and Andy was so, so late.

Of course I am, she thought grumpily, as she all but leapt down the stairs of her building, lugging her suitcase along behind her.

Every time Andy went on a trip, she made herself the same promise: this time, things would be different. This time, she would pack early. This time she would go to sleep at a reasonable hour the night before, and this time she would wake up early the next day.

And every time, Andy knew damn well that she was lying to herself.

She had the best intentions. She truly did. Andy knew she’d be busy all week, so she decided to do the bulk of her packing last night.

And her plan would have gone off without a hitch, too, but there was one little problem: Dani was in desperate need of her help. Due to the holiday, Runway would only be open until Wednesday next week. But that didn’t change the fact that, not only would Dani be alone to man the phones for three days, but that she would also be busy interviewing candidates for her own replacement. And, because Miranda had been sending Andy on crazy errands all week long, there hadn’t been any time to help her prepare.

So, the two of them stayed at the office late into the night; sorting through hundreds of resumes, and organizing a list of potential interviewees for Dani to call. Feeling guilty for knowing she was the cause of all her friend’s additional stress, Andy did everything she could to make sure that Dani’s week without her would run as smoothly as possible. By the time she finally got home it was nearly 10:00pm, and she hadn’t so much as cracked open a suitcase.

She was cutting it close on time, but Andy was a pro at speed-packing by now. She knew that she could be ready to go within the hour. Then she’d be free to return to the bed she’d been fantasizing about for hours, and would be out like a light before the clock struck twelve. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but Andy could do it.

Naturally, this had been precisely the moment when her mom had decided to call.

Power walking down her street to the nearest subway station, Andy sighed deeply as she recalled the conversation. Just the memory of it brought back that same sick feeling in her stomach, and Andy knew she wouldn’t feel any better until she talked it out. Pulling out her phone, she knew just who to call.

Her older sister, Rachel, picked up after only two rings. “I was wondering when you were gonna call,” she said by way of greeting.

“Hey Rach,” Andy said apologetically, “Sorry. Things have been kind of insane.”

“No shit. Should I start referring to you as ‘Mrs. Priestly’ now, or later?” her sister joked.

“Uh–” Andy tripped, nearly falling on her face before she realized that Rachel was only kidding. She hadn’t broken that particular part of the news to her family, yet. “I’d prefer ‘Sachs-Priestly’, actually,” she said, laughing nervously. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume that Mom and Dad told you everything?”

“You would assume correctly. I’d like to hear your take on the events, though. Dad was reasonable enough, but... you know Mom.”

“Oh my god, do I.” Andy groaned. “She called me last night while I was packing.” She adjusted the backpack on her shoulders as she walked.

“Okay. For now I’m going to choose not to comment on your time management skills, and move directly to the topic of your Mom management skills,” Rachel chided lightly. “What’d she say?”

“Basically? Exactly what I expected her to. She did halfway apologize for ‘The way her reaction may have made me feel’, though, so that’s something I guess.”

Rachel let out a sarcastic snort of a laugh. “What? She actually said she was sorry? I think the last time I heard her apologize to anyone was that time she ran over Ben’s foot with the minivan. Dad must’ve really guilted her, huh?”

Andy chuckled, “I guess. It barely counts as an apology in the first place.” It certainly hadn't made Andy feel any better, and wasn't that the whole point of apologizing? 

“Was that all she said?”

“All that’s worth mentioning.” Andy rolled her eyes. “I know that wasn’t the end of it, though. She was only worried that we wouldn’t come if she didn’t say something. I bet she wouldn’t even have called if Dad hadn’t told her to.”

“Probably not,” Rachel said bluntly. “Thank god for Dad, right? I’m sure that–” she was interrupted by a loud crashing noise. 

“–shit. Madeline Grace Reed, what are you doing up there?” Andy heard the unmistakable peal of her niece’s laughter and couldn’t help but smile.

“Gotta go, Andy. Talk to you later.” Her sister said quickly before shouting again, 

“Get back here, Maddie! That is not funny–” The line went dead.

Still smiling, Andy shook her head as she descended the stairs into the subway.  

—

Miranda sighed, looking at her watch for what was likely the twentieth time in the last ten minutes as she paced the expanse of her foyer. Andréa had said she would be to the townhouse at 7:15, so naturally, Miranda assumed she would arrive by at least 7:00. It was now 7:12, and she was beginning to grow restless.

Against her will, Miranda’s mind conjured up endless potential reasons for Andréa’s absence. Was there some sort of delay with the subways? A crash? A freak accident? 

After all, if anyone were going to be caught in some awful, one-in-a million scenario… ugh. Why couldn't Andréa have just listened to reason and let Miranda have Roy pick her up? 

Another, much more likely, thought crept into Miranda's thoughts. What if Andrea had changed her mind? Decided not to risk it all for her bitter, old boss? 

Miranda shook her head. More than likely, Andréa had simply overslept. Despite what she would have Miranda believe, Andréa was not invincible. Maybe Miranda should call? She had left her phone in the car. 

Halting her pacing, Miranda headed toward the basement, where lay the entrance to the garage. As she approached, she could hear the sound of her daughters’ chattering. One of her very favorite sounds. It brought a small smile to her lips in spite of her racing thoughts.

Leaning against the doorway to the garage, she called out to Caroline and Cassidy, “You are aware that we’re going to be spending the entire day in the car, correct? There’s no reason to subject yourselves to the backseat any longer than necessary.” In their excitement to get going, the two had opted to wait in the Mercedes. 

“We wanna be ready when Andy gets here!” Cassidy giggled. “Where is she? We’ve been waiting for hours.”

“It isn’t Andréa’s fault that you woke up at four in the morning,” Miranda pointed out. “Don’t be dramatic, darling.”

“It is too her fault! She should know that I can never rest when there’s a mystery to be solved,” there was a flash of red hair as Cassidy popped her head out the window, “And a surprise is one of the best mysteries ever. So, yeah. It’s totally her fault.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Caroline laughed, throwing one of the many pillows amassed in the backseat at her sister’s head.

Before Cassidy could retaliate in kind, there came a voice over Miranda’s shoulder.

“Talking about me, I see.” She turned around to see a very flushed looking Andréa, cheeks rosy and eyes glowing. Miranda bit her lip to keep herself from grinning at the sight. 

So, Andréa hadn't changed her mind. Yet.

“For the record: totally not my fault.” Andréa headed towards the already open trunk.

“You’re late.” Caroline complained, climbing out of the car. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.”

“Wow, has anyone ever told you that you sound exactly like your mom while pointing out the failures of others?” Andréa joked, “It’s uncanny.” 

Miranda scoffed at the slight, but Andréa continued. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, peering into the trunk. “How much stuff did you shove in here?” 

Miranda narrowed her eyes. “As much as we needed,” she answered elusively. “There’s plenty of room for your things.” She waved toward the tiny spot at the far corner of the trunk that was still vacant.

Andréa rolled her eyes with a playful grin. “Gee, thanks. I’m glad I decided only to bring my backpack and suitcase. I’d considered bringing a purse or something, but that obviously would’ve been pushing it. Maybe I’ll be able to squeeze my stuff in between one of the hammocks and the… is that a table? I don't remember buying that.”

“Perhaps if you had shown up on time, you could have arranged the luggage to your liking,” Miranda bristled. She was not in the mood to be mocked, no matter how funny Andréa seemed to think she was being.

Andréa raised her hands in surrender. “It’s too early to argue. Sorry, Tetris-Mistress.” 

With that, she began maneuvering her surprisingly chic wheeled suitcase into the trunk. Miranda returned into the house to ensure that everything was in order before locking the doors and activating the home security system.

Upon her return the garage was open, and three sets of eyes were watching her from inside of the now waiting car.

Settling into the passenger seat and noticing that Andréa had removed her jacket, Miranda inspected her outfit. A ratty grey Northwestern hoodie, blue skinny jeans, and a pair of those horrible Toms shoes. Miranda pursed her lips.

“Give me a break,” Andréa said defensively. “I’m about to spend the better part of the next twelve hours driving. Not all of us want to be uncomfortable for the entire ride,” she eyed Miranda’s own flowy plum dress and calf-length heeled boots with suspicion.

“My outfit is perfectly functional, thank you. Julepér is known for his casual wear.”

“Can’t you two bicker and drive?” Came Cassidy’s voice from the backseat. Andréa hummed in assent, putting the car into reverse and backing into the quiet street.

— 

Andy sat behind the wheel of Miranda’s silver Mercedes. They’d been driving for over an hour now, and so far, so good. The four of them were listening to one of several playlists that she had procured for the trip (this one was created specifically with the twins in mind, with mostly pop music and a healthy dose of Gaga), while Caroline and Cassidy talked quietly in the backseat. Andy had introduced them to The Alphabet Game only a few minutes into their drive, and the two of them had been at it ever since.

They were driving past one of many cornfields when Andy heard Caroline gasp from the backseat. “You didn’t tell us you brought snacks!”

“Ooh, lemme see,” came Cassidy’s voice. Suspicious crinkling sounds filled the air.

“You’re right, I didn’t tell you.” Andy looked at Caroline in the rearview mirror. “So, the only way you would know that is if you were snooping.” She narrowed her eyes.

The twins continued rummaging through her backpack, not an ounce of remorse on their faces.

“Can I have some Cheeto Puffs?” Cassidy pleaded, holding up a bag for Andy to see. “Please? They’re my favorite.”

Caroline continued digging through the bag, brow furrowed in concentration. “Ah-ha!” She exclaimed, “Cool Ranch Doritos! Lemme have some. Pretty please? With sugar on top?”

Andy chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re laying it on a little thick.”

“You already ate,” Miranda admonished, turning around in her seat. “There’s no need to eat that garbage.”

“Hey! It’s not all garbage. There’s apples and stuff in there, too,” Andy said. “…somewhere. No road trip is complete without junk food.”

“All the more reason to have flown.”

“She packed your favorite too, Mom,” Cassidy said excitedly. “Sea salt and vinegar chips! You did this on purpose, didn’t you, Andy? How did you know?”

Andy’s standard response to such questions, ‘It’s my job,’ was on the tip of her tongue. But before she could get the words out, she was interrupted by Caroline, talking around a large mouthful of Doritos. 

“Duh. She’s our new step mom. She loooves us,” her waved her arms around for emphasis. “Right, Andy?”

Heat creeped up her neck as Andy felt herself being pierced by Miranda’s icy blue stare. The question was probably a rhetorical one, but Andy decided that it needed answering, regardless.

She cleared her throat before rasping quietly, “Well… yeah. Of course I love you guys.” Isn’t it obvious? “What’s not to love?”

Chancing a glance to her right, Andy found Miranda watching her intently, studying her face as if seeing it for the very first time. Their gazes caught and, for once, Andy didn’t bother trying to hide her feelings.

The girls, both hyper with excitement for the day to come, didn’t seem to have heard her reply as they began another cutthroat round of The Alphabet Game. 

Andy didn’t mind, though. The person her words had truly been meant for had heard them just fine.

— 

Miranda stared out her window, watching as fields full of grazing cattle sped by, Norah Jones' Come Away With Me tinkling softly in the background.

Flat plains were slowly giving way to rolling hills, the trees atop them bursting with the yellows and oranges of autumn.

The sun still shone brightly overhead, becoming dappled by the beginnings of gray clouds decorating the skies. She watched all this, but she saw nothing. Her mind was still preoccupied with the conversation between Andréa and the girls from nearly two hours ago.

‘Of course I love you guys, Caroline,’ Andréa had all but whispered next to her. ‘What’s not to love?’

Miranda had searched for a hint of sarcasm, listened intently for any note of falsehood. Miranda gazed into entrancing brown eyes and expected to find guilt, the sort that came from giving a kind lie to an unsuspecting child in front of a parent who knew better.

She had expected this, and was therefore astonished to find only sincerity. Andréa’s eyes glowed with affection, and Miranda’s heart clenched at the mere memory– though whether from pain or from pleasure, she still wasn’t quite sure.

She’s fond of them, Miranda reasoned with herself. They did spend an entire week together this summer, after all. And as Andréa said, what’s not to love? They've known each other for years, now.

Yes, that was all it was. What Miranda had seen in Andréa’s eyes was simply affection for Caroline and Cassidy. Not some deep seeded desire to truly be a part of their little family, and certainly not any sort of romantic feelings for Miranda.

She shook her head at herself for so much as entertaining the thought. She reminded herself that this was, first and foremost, a business deal. One which would keep Miranda right where she belonged: by her daughters’ sides, while continuing to be the most successful Editor-in-Chief in Runway’s history.

And hadn’t Andréa made it clear that the reward she expected was to be rid of Runway, rid of Miranda, entirely? Feelings had nothing to do with their little arrangement, and she would do well to remember that. 

But then why does my heart ache so badly?

Still gazing out her window, Miranda was distracted from her reflections as Andréa put on her turn signal, inexplicably heading towards an exit sign that read ‘Hershey, PA’.

Turning to look at Andréa in confusion, she was about to comment on this change of events when she heard Caroline’s voice from the backseat, “Hershey… I keep seeing that name on the signs. Is that like the chocolate?”

“Sure is,” came Andréa’s response, and Miranda could hear the smile in her voice.

As the girls quietly digested this information, they passed yet another sign, this one larger and filled with colorful photos of an assortment of candy. “Hershey World, Only 10 Miles Away!” it read.

As Andréa turned onto the exit, Cassidy whooped loudly, “Ah-ha! That’s our surprise, isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to go to Hershey World!”

“Is that really what it is, Andy?” Caroline asked excitedly, “Please tell me that’s what it is.”

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Andréa replied playfully, and the faux innocence in her tone told them all that they needed to know.

“That’s totally it,” Caroline gushed. “Yes! Five-pound chocolate bars, here I come.”

At that, Miranda turned to look at both of her daughters, tone serious. “There will be none of that. I won’t have you giving yourselves type-two diabetes in a fit of chocolate-hazed madness.”

Caroline’s face fell. “You’re not gonna let us have any chocolate? At Hershey World?” She looked positively distraught, as did her sister beside her.

Miranda shook her head quickly. “I didn’t say that, Bobbsey. I’m saying that we’ll need to practice moderation.”

At that, the grins returned to her daughters’ faces in full force. Miranda couldn’t help but smile, herself. Chocolate was a favorite of all three of the Priestlys.

Andréa shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to visit, and I figured that you guys would probably appreciate it, too. I’ve seen your mom sneak many a chocolate in her office when she thinks no one is looking.”

Miranda’s eyes widened slightly before she could school her expression. She very rarely indulged, and always took the utmost care to ensure that no one was around to see her do so. “I very much doubt that,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” Andréa smirked, “Then how would I know that Almond Joy is your favorite? And that, occasionally, you like to eat two of the little ‘fun-sized’ ones after a particularly stressful day?”

Miranda raised a disdainful eyebrow, but chose not to comment. “And how are we supposed to fit this little excursion into our schedule?” she asked, shamelessly changing the subject. “We still have at least seven hours of driving ahead of us, don't we?" 

Andréa looked at the girls in the rearview mirror. “Cassidy, could you give your mom my backpack?”

Obediently, Cassidy handed it over.

Turning to glance at Miranda, who now held the garish orange bag in her lap, Andréa pointed at the pocket in the very front. “Look in there.”

Inside, Miranda found four tickets, each with the words “Adventure Fast Track Pass” scrolled across the top in bold print.

“With those bad boys, we’ll get sent straight to the front of the line for any five rides we choose,” Andréa proclaimed proudly. “So, we really shouldn’t be there for more than an hour or two. Tops.”

Miranda listened with half an ear as the girls began to chatter excitedly with Andréa about which rides they planned to choose, and wondered to herself if perhaps this trip wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

—

The air whooshed past Andy’s face as she felt the rollercoaster slow to a stop. Her stomach bubbled with fresh waves of nausea, and she freed the hand that Caroline had been squeezing tightly in order to better cover her mouth.

“Are you okay, Andy?” came Cassidy’s voice. She and Miranda had been sitting in the cart right behind Caroline and herself, but she sounded much farther away than that.

Andy turned around in her seat to look at her, but stopped suddenly when it set the world spinning around her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she held her head in her hands. Nope, definitely not okay.

That had been what Andy meant to say, but all that came out was a slightly slurred “Nuh– no…”

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Andy stumbled out of her seat and onto the platform of the Wildcat, the huge wooden coaster that had been the twins’ pick for first ride of the day. She squinted her eyes, opening them just enough to see the people around her as she weaved through the crowd.

Finally, Andy found what she was looking for: a bench. She slumped down on the seat, putting her head between her knees. Is this what getting old feels like? she wondered miserably. Riding roller coasters used to be fun, however the way she felt now was anything but. 

She stayed in this position until she heard Miranda’s voice heading towards her, the sound of her heeled boots rushing closer. “Andréa?” there was an unmistakable note of concern in her tone. Her hand came to rest on Andy's shoulder, rubbing gently back and forth. 

Andy felt her heart skip a beat at the touch in spite of how shitty she felt. “Oh- uh–” she spluttered, grateful Miranda couldn't see her face. “M’okay,” she mumbled, head still between her knees.

“Mhmm.” Miranda hummed disbelievingly. 

Slowly, Andy lifted her head up. 

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat at the movement, she tried again. “Really. I’m fine. I just…” she held back a gag, and Miranda gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I guess I just can’t ride roller coasters like I used to. No big deal.”

Miranda frowned. “No big deal. Considering those are the exact words you used as your appendix burst at your desk, you'll forgive me if I no longer trust your judgment on such things.” She let go of Andy's shoulder to look for something in her bag. 

“Are you gonna puke?” Caroline asked, eyes wide. “You’re totally gonna puke. Thanks for not doing it on me, I guess.” She wrinkled her nose, “Gross.”

“Please don’t use the ‘p’ word.” Andy could feel herself blanch, and there was no holding back her gag this time. “You three go on and enjoy the rides. I’ll be fine right here, don’t you worry.”

Miranda checked her watch as if Andy hadn't spoken. “Girls,” she said, looking up at Caroline and Cassidy. “Mommy is going to stay here with Andréa. You have…” she glanced back down at her watch once more, “Seventy minutes to ride as many rides as you like, but I expect to meet you back here at one o’clock.” She handed them each a map. “Not a moment later.”

Both twins looked as stunned as Andy felt. Notoriously overprotective Miranda, letting her darling daughters out of her sight for over an hour? And at an amusement park, of all places?

Seeing their astonishment, Miranda continued, “Are you not the same children who, only a week ago, complained about a lack of independence?” arms crossed, she studied each of her daughter's faces in turn, finger tapping gently at her lip.

“If the idea makes you uncomfortable, Bobbseys, then of course I’ll go with you. I simply thought that you might enjoy a bit of freedom,” she said gently, before waving a hand in Andy’s direction. “And of course I don’t want to leave our Andréa alone in this state.”

There it was again. Our Andréa. Andy felt some color return to her cheeks at the words, and the same warmth bubbled up inside as she had felt earlier that week in Irv’s office, when Miranda had so decisively called Andy hers. Had it really only been four days since this all began?

Coming to their senses, both girls shook their heads.

“No, we’re not uncomfortable!” Cassidy amended quickly. “Just... surprised, that's all.”

“Yeah,” Caroline added, “I remember when you yelled at us at Disneyland Paris because you thought you lost us.” Her eyes went wide at the memory, “That was scary.”

“Yes, well.” Miranda sniffed, “That was nearly five years ago. You’re much older now. Not to mention, this park is a fraction of the size of Disney.” She paused for a moment, expression thoughtful. “I expect a text from one of you every fifteen minutes until we meet again, letting me know where you are. Understood?”

Both girls nodded, faces clearly torn between excitement and nervousness.

Miranda gave her daughters a small smile. “Excellent. We’ll see you here at one o'clock, then. Call one of us if you need anything at all. We won’t be far.”

What does she have up her sleeve? Andy wondered as Miranda turned her smile toward her, and Cassidy and Caroline wandered away. She offered Andy a hand.

“Shall we?”

Andy studied her hand for a moment before accepting the help up. “I guess so,” she said warily. “Thanks.”

Miranda didn’t immediately let go of her hand. Andy could feel Miranda's eyes studying her under Chanel sunglasses, and she looked away awkwardly, unsure what to do with the twins no longer there as a buffer. She grasped at her stomach with her free hand, her body protesting to its new, upright position.

She felt a sense of loss as Miranda's hand finally released her own. Miranda jerked her head toward a food stand nearby. “I think I have just the thing for that.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the stand in question, and Andy silently followed. 

—

Miranda and Andréa sat at a little table in the sunlight, sharing a soft pretzel and quietly watching the passerby. Generally, sitting in silence with others filled Miranda with unease. It was part of the reason she avoided riding in elevators with others. She hated silence, mostly because she hated the meaningless chatter that others insisted upon filling it with.

But at some point in their working relationship, Miranda had become quite comfortable sharing silence with Andréa. There was no awkwardness, no anxiety over whether to expect forced conversation. The two of them were able to sit quietly together and just… be. This was something that Miranda rarely experienced with anyone, and therefore something she had come to cherish. 

Initially, Andréa had been apprehensive to eating anything at all. She failed to understand how food could possibly relieve her nausea, and feared it would only make matters worse. But eventually, upon Miranda’s insistence, (and after bullying Miranda into having some, herself), she agreed. 

Andréa began eating slowly, barely picking off anything at all. Now, though, the pretzel was all but gone, with Miranda having had little of it herself.

Andréa took a final swig of her ginger ale, a small smile on her face. She'd removed her hoodie before entering the park, and the mustard yellow v-neck that lay beneath was much more suited to her. “I really am feeling better now. Thanks, Miranda.” She gave Miranda a curious look, “How'd you know that would help?”

“Pregnancy with the girls was hard on me,” she admitted with a small shrug. “When you spend the better part of eight months feeling ill, you learn a few tricks.” She waved a hand at the food in front of them.

Andréa nodded. There were a few more minutes of quiet people-watching before either of them spoke again.

“So. How do you feel about carnival-style games?” Andréa asked without preamble.

“I... can’t say I’ve given them enough thought to have any feelings on them at all, truthfully.”

“Well how do you feel about trying some out, then?” Excitement lit up Andréa’s face, and Miranda felt there was very little she wouldn’t do to ensure that look stayed there as long as possible. 

Miranda wondered vaguely if she was going to regret it as she answered almost immediately, “I don’t see why not.”

But then Andréa beamed hugely, and Miranda forgot about her other concerns for a moment.

“Awesome,” Andréa said, hopping up. “Let’s try it out, then.”

As it turned out, neither of them were exceptionally good at any of the games they attempted. And they tried several–  including Ring Toss (a complete failure for them both), Balloon Darts (yet another failure), and the Strength Tester (which, to the astonishment of them both, Andréa had come quite close to winning).

It wasn’t until they decided to give Plate Breaking a go that they experienced any real success. Miranda lobbed the last of her balls, breaking yet another plate with the motion. She couldn’t help but grin as Andréa cheered loudly beside her, dutifully holding Miranda's Valentino bag while she clapped for her.

“What prize can I get ya?” asked the man behind the counter.

Not having bothered looking at the prizes before, Miranda tore her eyes away from Andréa to glance over her options.

Before her was a wide array of cheaply made stuffed animals: a few fuzzy pink monkeys, an assortment of differently colored teddy bears, some of those abominable Sponge Bob characters, and… Miranda nearly laughed out loud. It was just too perfect.

She nodded toward her choice, and the man handed her the last of the small stuffed dragons on display. With scales bright green and wings blue and shiny, it was one of the tackiest things Miranda had ever laid eyes upon. No sooner had the man put it in her hands, Miranda held it out toward Andréa, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Andréa raised her eyebrows in surprise, reluctant to take the toy. “Oh. It’s for me? Are you sure? One of the girls might like it.” She handed Miranda back her bag, their hands brushing lightly.

Miranda gave her a flabbergasted look, putting the bag back on her shoulder. “Caroline and Cassidy have plenty of toys, Andréa. Don’t be ridiculous.” She placed the chintzy stuffed dragon in Andréa’s waiting hands and looked her over before giving a wry smile. “How appropriate.”

Andréa, now clutching her gift with a smile of her own, cocked her head. “Appropriate? How’s that?”

“They call you the Dragon Tamer, do they not?”

“I– they–” Andréa’s eyes went wide with shock as she stuttered, and Miranda’s grin only grew. “I didn’t realize you knew about that,” she said finally, turning bright pink.

“You’ll find that very little occurs in the halls of Runway which I’m unaware of. As you’re so fond of saying, ‘it’s my job’.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Andréa’s voice was growing frantic. “I’ve been telling them to stop calling me that for ages. It’s embarrassing, and so inappropriate–”

“I found it rather amusing, actually,” Miranda interrupted, fighting the urge to chuckle at Andréa’s horror.

“I– you–” she stuttered, “–...amusing.” Andréa stared at her in disbelief, mouth agape and face flushed. “You’re not angry, then?” she pulled the stuffed animal to her chest and fiddled with its wings.

Still grinning, Miranda gave her a pointed look before asking, “Tell me: do I often fail to make my displeasure known?”

Andréa shook her head slowly, shock still written plainly on her features. She cleared her throat, checking her phone for the time before looking back at Miranda.

“Well… we’ve got a little time before we need to meet the girls,” she was now looking anywhere but at Miranda, neck still rosy with embarrassment. “Is there anything you want to do while we’re still here? Any rides you’d like to try out, maybe?”

Miranda surveyed their surroundings. “Roller coasters are obviously out of the question,” she gestured toward her choice, “But what about ferris wheels?”

Andréa moved a hand to her stomach, looking thoughtful. “Ferris wheels are doable, I think.”

And so the two sat across from one another, enjoying the view as their cart climbed slowly higher. The ride wasn’t especially tall, but then again, the park wasn’t especially large. As they neared the top, Miranda could see most of the park below. That wasn’t what Miranda's eyes were drawn to, however.

Miranda tried unsuccessfully to distract herself with the sights. But, the cart was much smaller than she had anticipated, causing her to be so close to Andréa that their knees nearly touched. The purple fabric of Miranda's dress glided against the denim of Andréa's jeans. 

Hyper aware of her every movement, Miranda avoided the all-too-familiar warmth she felt every time their skin so much as brushed.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea, she thought anxiously.

“Look, the girls!” Andréa exclaimed, pointing down animatedly. Miranda followed Andréa’s gaze and found that she was right– there they were, side by side, walking out of the roller coaster next door.

“Here, hold him for me.” Him? Miranda was confused until Andréa placed her toy dragon into Miranda’s lap. 

In a blur of motion she pulled out her phone and leaned her torso out of the cart, snapping several photos in rapid succession.

While Miranda was busy being astonished at her for risking life and limb for a silly photo, Andréa turned and snapped a picture of Miranda as well. The flurry of movement paused as Andréa inspected her handiwork– a silly, crooked little smile plastered on her face.

Miranda held out her hand expectantly. “Let me see.”

“Nope.” Andréa didn’t look up from her screen.

Miranda huffed impatiently, plucking the phone from Andréa’s grip. Ignoring her protestations, she gave a cursory glance at the snapshots of Caroline and Cassidy before inspecting the photo of herself.

It wasn’t half bad. The sun shone on Miranda’s hair, giving her a sort of glow that contrasted with the silliness of the gaudy dragon she held in her lap. 

Mollified, she handed the phone back to Andréa.

“What on Earth are you doing with them?” Miranda asked.

“I’m sending them to the girls,” she answered. “Maybe they can guess where we are.”

Miranda couldn’t help but smile at that. She had given Andréa’s number to Cassidy and Caroline ages ago. It was for emergencies– her assistants were often better about answering their phones than Miranda herself. (The fact that she hadn’t done this with any previous assistant was not relevant in the slightest, of course.)

It was obvious the twins had begun to use Andréa’s number for more than just emergencies, however. Miranda couldn’t say that she minded– and it didn’t seem that Andréa did, either.

The irony of her situation did not escape Miranda. Attempting to forge a bond between her daughters and Stephen– whom she had married for the express purpose of providing them with a normal family, a father figure that they saw more than two and a half days week– had been a monumental failure.

And yet they had no problem whatsoever when it came to bonding with Andréa.

Andréa, with whom Miranda’s relationship had never been anything even approaching normal. Andréa, who was supposed to be the exact opposite of what their little family needed. Andréa, whose presence in their lives was, as Miranda kept reminding herself, very painfully temporary. 

How long were they required to stay married before Andréa would finally be free of her, she wondered? How long would Miranda be allowed to keep this wonder of a human being by her side? 

“Is something wrong?” the wonder spoke, reaching into Miranda's space to take back her dragon and plop it back into her own lap. 

Now pulled out of her reverie, Miranda realized too late that she had been staring at Andréa while lost in thought. 

Unsure what to say, she instead answered with her own question. “Why did you do this?”

“Do what?” Where before there was concern, Andréa’s voice was now tinged with defensiveness.

“This,” Miranda gestured vaguely around them. “All of this. Bringing us to a place you knew we would all enjoy. Putting so much effort into planning a surprise for us– for the girls,” she corrected herself quickly.

Andréa furrowed her brow, arms crossing over her chest. “I’m confused. Are you mad at me for being thoughtful?”

“I’m not mad,” Miranda rolled her eyes. “I’m… perplexed. By all accounts, you should be doing your best to make this trip as miserable as possible.” It’s what I would have done.

The cart swayed gently in the breeze. Miranda could hear the sounds of the park as they drifted up from below: the mechanical clicks and rattles of surrounding attractions, children laughing, the chorus of high-pitched screams from the coaster next door.

“Even if I wanted to make you miserable…” Andréa said finally, “There’s no reason to punish the kids.” She ran a hand through her windblown hair, staring at the park below. “But I don’t want you to be miserable, Miranda. That’s the last thing I want.”

Miranda tilted her head as she studied her. “And what do you want, Andréa?” she asked softly.

Slowly, she turned her gaze to meet Miranda’s once more. Full lips parted to respond, “I–”

Miranda’s bag began to chirp, and for one mad second she considered tossing it out of the cart and onto the ground below for daring to interrupt this moment. Gritting her teeth, she dug out her phone from where it lay hidden at the bottom of her purse. A glance at the screen told her that it was Caroline calling.

“Hello, Bobbsey.” Miranda tried to sound as cheery as possible as she answered. “Are you both having fun?”

“Where are you?” Caroline demanded, voice hard in a way that it only became when she was pretending not to be upset. “We were supposed to meet five minutes ago.”

Next, she heard Cassidy, not bothering to hide the panic in her voice. “Did something happen? Are you guys okay? Is Andy still sick?”

Disbelieving, Miranda checked her watch only to see that her daughters were correct: it was now 1:06.

“One question at a time, darlings,” she reassured them, “Everything is fine– Andréa feels much better now.”

“Where are you?” Caroline repeated. “We got the creeper pictures Andy sent us. Are you two on the ferris wheel or something?”

“Yes, that's exactly where we are. We're...” Miranda looked around for confirmation, “Approximately three-fourths of the way around, now.”

“Oh… okay,” Caroline’s voice was apprehensive. “So, nothing’s wrong?”

“No, nothing is wrong,” Miranda reassured her, “We must have just lost track of time.”

“…right.” Cassidy sounded just as skeptical as her sister.

Exiting the ferris wheel a few minutes later, Cassidy and Caroline met them at the exit, giggling quietly while hunched over a scrap of paper.

“What’s so funny?” Miranda asked, eyeing them suspiciously. Cassidy handed her the paper in question, and Miranda’s eyes widened. “Oh, no,” she said, voice low.

It was a photo snapped of the four of them while on the very first coaster they rode together that morning. It was nothing short of horrid. In the forefront was Andréa, face green and squished tight as Caroline sat next to her, squeezing her hand, mouth open mid-scream.

Worse, though, was what lay behind them. Cassidy looked fine– the only one who managed to spot the camera, she wore a smug grin. No wonder she decided to buy it, Miranda thought. No, the true disaster was sitting next to her.

Hair awhirl about her head, Miranda wore a horrible grimace. The picture was less flattering than even the worst of Page Six. She heard Andréa cackle behind her as she finally caught sight of it. Miranda handed the photo back to Cassidy begrudgingly, wishing instead to throw it away.

Eyes roving the park around her, Miranda found an employee. Glaring impatiently until he took notice, eventually he came their way.  “How can I–” the boy started brightly, but Miranda cut him off.

“Where are those people?” The boy only blinked in confusion. Miranda sighed. “The ones who harassed us in droves as soon as we stepped foot in this place?” she elaborated begrudgingly. 

The boy's eyes widened in alarm, “Harassed? Who hara–”

Miranda rolled her eyes, already done with this conversation. “With the cameras.” She would not deign to call them photographers.

“Oh, you mean the Ginger Snappers?” he said brightly, “They’re at the main entrance.” He pulled out a map to show them. 

“The quickest way would be through the Pioneer Frontier and just past the…” seeing the look on Miranda’s face, he faltered. “Or… I could go get one for you?”

Miranda gave a curt nod, and with that, the boy ran off. 

Andréa raised her eyebrows. “Really, Miranda?”

“Really,” she said seriously. “If there's going to be photographic evidence of our time here, it will at least be somewhat bearable to look at.” 

Andy shook her head, accepting her fate. Caroline and Cassidy only sighed in resignation, quite used to this sort of thing by now.

Not five minutes later the boy returned, winded, with two rather irritated-looking ‘Ginger Snappers’ in tow. They tried many different poses, Miranda checking every photo until at last she found one that was acceptable. 

Photo ticket in hand, Miranda led them toward the nearest gift shop. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andréa slipping each of the employees a tip before following.

Miranda entered the little shop intending to buy only the photo. Her children had other plans, however. When they left– quite some time later– each of them had a trinket of some kind.

For Caroline, a necklace with a small, silver Hershey's Kiss attached. Cassidy picked out a phone charm with an enamel Tootsie Roll dangling from its chain and, after much pouting and convincing on Cassidy's part, a miniature frame to display the awful coaster photo that had started this mess in the first place.

Even Andréa got something, picking herself out the most hideous sweatshirt that Miranda had ever laid eyes upon. Bright cerulean, with various anthropomorphic candy characters surrounding the Hershey World logo, Andréa laughed at Miranda’s sneer upon seeing it.

For herself, Miranda bought only the new photo and a simple silver frame to hold it. The family photo, she caught herself thinking more than once. She kept it wrapped safely in its packaging, tucked away in her bag. 

By now Miranda was more than ready to leave the park, and could see from Andréa’s sluggish movements that she was, as well. The girls clearly weren’t, however– so she indulged them by agreeing to one more ride before getting back on the road.

After much deliberation, they were able to agree upon the merry-go-round. The girls argued that the ride was for babies, but acquiesced after seeing how green every other suggestion made Andréa.

Perched upon a camel, Miranda watched in amusement as Cassidy attempted, unsuccessfully, to capture a selfie with Caroline on the zebra beside her. She felt a pleasant sort of drowsiness pull at her eyelids as she watched the world spin slowly around her, and allowed them to close for a moment as she listened to the ride’s jingle as it mingled with her daughter’s chattering.

Miranda’s eyes opened to see Andréa was watching her from the horse on her left. Brown eyes were flecked with gold in the sunlight, and for a moment, Miranda was mesmerized. 

“You never told me what it is that you want,” Miranda said, not looking away for an instant as she leaned her face lazily against her hand that was holding the striped pole in front of her. “Earlier.”

“What I…?” Andréa’s head tilted to the side as she recalled their conversation on the ferris wheel. “Oh,” she smiled, eyes never leaving Miranda’s. “I just want you to be happy. That’s all.”

Miranda closed her eyes once more, and felt the corner of her lips twitch, threatening a grin. Happy.

—

The afternoon sun shone dimly into the Mercedes as a misting of rain pattered against the windows. Andy heard Caroline and Cassidy breathing deeply from the backseat, having finally given in to their exhaustion from the day.

In the passenger seat, Miranda had been silent for so long Andy assumed that she, too, had fallen asleep. When she spoke again, Andy jumped in surprise.

“I’ll take my turn after our next rest stop,” came Miranda’s soft voice.

“Your turn?” Andy raised her eyebrows, confused. “Your turn for... what?”

Is Miranda scheduling her next nap or something? she thought to herself, What the hell is she talking about?

“My turn to drive. You’ve driven for nearly five hours today, Andréa. I thought you might appreciate a break.”

Oh. “Um. Okay. Sure! Next rest stop. Thanks.” Andy could feel Miranda’s eyes on her now, but it was more than her life was worth to admit that– 

“You didn’t think I knew how to drive, did you?” Miranda asked, her voice sounding full of something suspiciously close to amusement.

“I mean… it’s not like I’ve ever seen you do it. Or heard you talk about it,” Or considered the idea for even half a second, Andy quipped internally. “Can you really blame a girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I absolutely can. I’m fifty-one years old, Andréa. Honestly, what do you think I did before hiring a driver? Walk?” The words were accusatory, but her tone was light. Playful, even. Her eyes glittered with mirth, and there was a small grin on her lips.

Andy blinked. Was Miranda… teasing her? Had she somehow driven them into an alternate dimension? 

Sure, Miranda was more relaxed around her than ever these days… but this was different, somehow.

Flirtatious, Andy thought before she could stop herself. 

She swallowed. “Well… yeah. Or, take the subway. You know, like the rest of New York.” Imagining La Priestly on public transit was almost enough to make Andy laugh. 

“But... on second thought,” Andy added playfully, “I’m not sure why I thought you would do anything like the rest of the world does. That would be too easy, and therefore very un-Miranda-like.”

Miranda laughed– a real, genuine laugh, not one of the fake ones she used for business luncheons or dinner parties– and for a moment Andy thought that it might just be the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

Knowing better than to let herself go down that rabbit hole, Andy attempted to distract herself. “What’s so funny?” she asked lightly.

“Oh,” Andy could still hear the smile in Miranda’s voice, “That just sounded very much like something my sister used to say, once.” Seeming to realize that she had just revealed something very personal, Miranda stiffened.

Andy considered briefly whether she should use Miranda’s admission as an opening for the conversation that she had been both eagerly awaiting and actively dreading. 

She knew that if they wanted even a prayer of passing whatever test their immigration officer had in store for them next week, she was eventually going to have to do the unthinkable: she was going to have to get Miranda to talk about her past.

It’s now or never, Andy thought, steeling herself. “I didn’t know that you have a sister, Miranda,” Andy began carefully, keeping her tone as light as possible. 

Miranda sniffed, smile now long gone from her lips as she eyed Andy apprehensively. “Yes. Well. I’m sure there are plenty of other things you don’t know about me. I see no reason to get caught up on this topic in particular.” Her voice had hardened considerably. 

Andy– as cautiously as she would with an agitated cat who had just batted her hand away for petting the wrong spot– tried a different tactic. “That's… kind of the point though, isn't it? We're both gonna have to get to know these kinds of things about one another, sooner rather than later. The interview is next week.”

She was met with only more silence. Miranda had turned to look out the window, facing away from her as she fiddled with her hands in her lap. 

“Besides,” Andy continued anxiously, “It’s not like you’ll be the only one opening up. I know just about everything there is to know about you.” she felt a blush creep up her neck at the admission, and she rubbed at the back of it self-consciously. “You know next to nothing about me,” she mumbled. 

“That's nonsense,” Miranda turned to look at Andy once more, sounding offended. “I've re–” 

But she cut herself off midsentence, and Andy glanced over again, just long enough to see Miranda blush. She didn't finish her statement and looked away, instead starting a new one. 

“You do not know everything there is to know about me, Andréa Sachs,” Miranda's voice was just loud enough for Andy to hear. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Andy couldn't help but chuckle at that, now feeling a little offended, herself. “You really think I’ve spent the last three years working for you without picking up on a few things? Try me.”

Not giving Miranda a chance to respond, Andy started in. “Your favorite color is blue. Not just any old blue, though. Azure. And you hate just about every shade of orange there is.” 

Andy was on a roll. “Your birthday is October 24th, 1958. Stereotypical Scorpio. Your favorite food other than steak is spaghetti and meatballs, but you pretend that it’s beef bourguignon because it sounds fancier and has fewer carbs.”

Years of seemingly useless information spilled forth of their own accord, and Andy scarcely stopped for breath as she continued. “You can’t swim. Your middle name is Rose, but your Wikipedia page says that your name was Miriam Ethel Princhek until you were twenty. You’re allergic to cats, and you’re a dog person even though you tell people that you only bought Patricia for the girls.”

Andy paused for a moment, thoughtful, before adding, “I’m also pretty sure that you have a tattoo.”

The silence coming from the passenger seat was deafening. Miranda seemed to  be at a loss for words. Well, there’s a first for everything, Andy supposed.

Her voice gentled. “See? I don’t need much. I know most of what I need to. All I’m asking for is some basic family history, here. I don’t need an autobiography.”

When Andy was greeted with still more silence, she began to wonder if maybe she’d said too much. After all, Miranda had told her exactly none of this information– all of her knowledge came from a healthy mix of late-night internet searches, paying attention, and caring entirely too much for her own damn good.

Just as she was beginning to consider apologizing for overstepping, however, Miranda spoke.

“Her name was Margaret,” Miranda’s voice was so quiet that it was almost a whisper. “But everyone called her Maggie.” She stared at her hands where they sat folded in her lap.

“She was three years older than me, and we were always close. Much closer than I ever was to our younger brother, Jeremiah.”

She stopped, and Andy waited, not wanting to interrupt. But when more information didn’t seem to be forthcoming, she risked asking another question. “…What about your parents?”

Andy glanced over to see Miranda smoothing down invisible wrinkles in her dress, a distant look upon her face. There was another long pause before she answered the question.

“My father, Jeremiah Senior, was, uh… a handy-man.” She sighed deeply. 

“My mother’s name was Ethel. She was a stay at home parent.” She turned to look out the window as she continued to speak softly, fidgeting with her rings absentmindedly. 

“She… ran a small business from home, doing alterations and repairs for other neighborhood families. Not that she was the one doing most of the work.” There was a definite note of bitterness to her tone. 

Miranda hesitated, and Andy stayed quiet, barely daring breathe. Maybe, just maybe, if Miranda could forget that Andy was there, then she would keep talking.

Finally, Miranda continued. “That was how I learned to sew,” she said. “She taught Maggie, so that she could help with the business. And when I was young…” she tapped her lip in thought, “…maybe 10? My sister taught me so that I could help, too.” 

Andy couldn’t believe her luck. Couldn’t believe that Miranda was sitting next to her, telling Andy about her childhood. About her history. It felt like a once in a lifetime phenomena, and Andy didn't want it to end. 

Miranda didn’t seem to have anything else to say, but Andy was bursting with questions, now. She knew that she should just be grateful for what she was given, but Andy was filled with a sense of greed for knowledge of the woman sitting next to her. Now that she’d had a taste, she only wanted more.

Deciding to push her bit of good fortune, Andy asked the question that had been burning in her mind for days, now. “You mentioned, at the Office of Immigration… about your family. You said that you were…” Andy wasn’t sure how to put it.

“Estranged?” the edge returned to Miranda’s voice.

“Um. Yeah. I mean– yes.” Andy stumbled over her words.

Miranda cleared her throat. “Maggie died when I was fifteen.” She said it so calmly, so matter-of-fact, without any preamble. Andy felt her chest tighten with sympathy. 

“Things… changed, after. I left home at sixteen,” Miranda continued. The words came out carefully, as if she measured the weight of each syllable before it passed her lips. “And I haven’t spoken to my parents or my brother since.” Miranda shrugged. “Not much to tell, really.” 

Andy didn't know what to say. “Wow, Miranda, I'm really so–” 

“That’s all I wish to say about it,” Miranda cut her off, and there was no arguing with the finality of her tone.

Andy could’ve smacked herself. Of course Miranda didn’t want to hear how sorry Andy was about her dead sister. What good did saying sorry ever do for anyone, in situations like these?

She glanced quickly at Miranda, only to see that she now sat as far away from Andy as was physically possible without jumping out the car window. She stared out at the surrounding hills, shoulders stiff.

Well, I guess storytime is over, Andy thought, resigned.

Andy clutched the steering wheel tightly, devoting more concentration than was probably necessary on the road ahead in her attempt to avoid looking at Miranda. She didn’t want Miranda to look at her face and see the pity that was surely written there. She knew it would not be welcome.

Andy had been dying to know more about Miranda for ages. Now that she knew, though, she was torn between wanting to know everything, and wishing she'd never asked.

That clench of sympathy that she felt in her chest was much like the one she had felt earlier that week, when Miranda let slip to Yurman at Immigration that the two little girls currently dozing in the backseat made up her entire family. 

They were some of the very same feelings that ran through Andy three years ago, on that fateful night their first time in Paris. The night she found Miranda crying on a couch in her hotel room, and for the first time was allowed to see the woman behind the glamorous, steely mask.

Maybe that’s part of the problem, Andy thought.

More than once, Miranda had been forced to let down her carefully cultivated guard around Andy. Maybe, if Andy offered up a bit of herself in return… Miranda would feel less exposed?

She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the nervousness bubbling in her belly. “Green,” Andy said carefully. “My favorite color is green. Like… sunlight shining through the leaves on a bright afternoon.” 

As Andy had expected, she received no response. She carried on, “My birthday is April 2nd, 1981, and my full name is Andrea Elizabeth Sachs. Veggie pizza is my favorite food. Deep dish used to be my go-to, but I’ve been converted since moving to New York.”

Another peek to her right told her that Miranda was still facing away from her, but she at least looked less like she was contemplating ducking and rolling out of the moving vehicle.

“I’m the youngest of three,” Andy continued. “My brother Ben is a middle school teacher. He’s always been a massive goofball, so it fits. I think the girls are gonna get along with him really well, actually.” Still nothing from the passenger seat. She carried on. 

“Rachel’s the oldest. She can be pretty no-nonsense, but Ben and I have a knack for bringing out her fun side. She and Cameron have two kids, Madeline and Jacob.” Andy smiled. 

“They’re four and one, and the sweetest things ever. You’ll see, though,” she assured Miranda. “No one’s immune to Maddie’s charms. Or Jake's cheeks.”

She wasn’t sure what else to say. Before she could overthink it, she was relieved to hear Miranda finally speak up next to her.

“And your parents?” she asked, looking at Andy intently now.

Andy shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
“Oh. Right. Well, my dad is Mark. He’s easy-going most of the time. He seems to get along with everyone he meets.” She furrowed her brow, not particularly wanting to talk about her mom.

I’m sure Miranda didn’t want to talk about her mom, either, Andy reasoned with herself. It’s only fair. Besides, it was probably better to prepare her for the worst.

“My mom is Pam. Pamela, really, but everyone calls her Pam. She’s, uh…” still sore about their conversation from the night before, Andy searched for a way to describe her mother that wasn’t insulting. Overbearing? Controlling? Difficult?

“…not quite so easy-going,” she finished lamely.

“I see,” Miranda said, still watching Andy with rapt attention. Andy squirmed slightly under her gaze. “And what do they have to say about our situation?”

“Our… situation?” Andy replied evasively. 

“Our engagement, Andréa.” Miranda said impatiently, “What did they say when you told them?”

Andy froze. She had been putting off having that particular conversation with her parents, seeing as merely mentioning that she and Miranda were together had gone so poorly. She didn't realize that Miranda would expect them to already know that they were engaged, as well.

“Yeah… about that–” Andy started.

“Andréa.” Miranda cut her off, soft voice suddenly aghast, “I’m sure you are not about to tell me that we are currently barreling towards the home of two innocent people who have no idea that myself or my children are coming. I’m sure you’re not going to say this, because that would be absolutely the most reckless, idiotic thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve never taken you for an id–”

“No, no, I didn’t say that!” Andy said quickly. She could feel her voice getting shrill with nerves, and took a steadying breath before continuing.

“They know that you’re coming. They even know that we’re… together.” God, I have to figure out how to stop blushing every time I say that, she thought, embarrassed. “They just… don’t know that we’re engaged. Yet.”

Miranda, seeming only somewhat pacified by the knowledge that she was not about the be the worst Thanksgiving surprise in Sachs family history, pinched the bridge of her nose. “And when were you planning to tell them, Andréa? At the wedding?”

“I… haven’t really decided?” Andy said honestly. “They weren’t exactly thrilled when I told them we were together, and I just... sort of chickened out after that.”

Both women froze as they heard movement from the backseat. Having been previously distracted by their discussion, Andy suddenly realized that she hadn’t heard the deep, even breathing of sleep for quite some time. Staring back at her when she checked the rearview mirror were two identical pairs of small, piercing blue eyes.

Miranda turned in her seat to face her now wide-awake children. “I would scold you for eavesdropping, but I suppose we didn’t give you much of a choice.” She grimaced slightly. “I’m sorry we woke you.” 

She received no response, both girls staring at her with looks of concern upon their faces. “Well?” she raised her eyebrows, “You must have questions. Out with them, Bobbseys.”

The twins looked at each other before turning their gazes back toward the front. 

“Why aren’t your parents happy, Andy?” Cassidy’s voice sounded considerably smaller than usual. “Do they not like us?”

Andy felt her heart clench in her chest. She hadn’t even considered how her words would sound to eleven-year-old ears.

“Of course they like you, sweetie. They just…” Andy was at a loss for words. 

They just what? she thought desperately, They’re just convinced that your mom is a bitch, and that I’ve taken up gold digging as a hobby?

“Are they homophobic?” Caroline asked seriously. 

“I– what?” Andy hadn't been prepared for that one. 

Miranda turned to look at Andy before giving a delicate shrug. “It’s a fair question. Are they?” 

She sighed. “No, they aren’t homophobic.” That would be too simple, she thought bitterly. “It’s just…” she struggled to find the right words.

“They aren’t especially fond of me,” Miranda said what Andy couldn’t bring herself to. “You know I have a talent for rubbing others the wrong way.” She smiled at her daughters wryly.

“It’s not just that, though,” Andy insisted. 

She saw no reason to deny the truth, but she was feeling very suddenly defensive of Miranda. “It’s that, for another week, your mom’s still technically my boss. And that she has a lot more money than I do–”

“That’s stupid,” interrupted Caroline. “Lots of people have more money than you do. Are you only supposed to date poor people?”

“Enough,” Miranda warned.

“I’m just saying,” Caroline whined. “That’s a stupid reason not to like us. We can’t help how much money we have.”

Andy tried not to laugh as Miranda held her face in her hands, shoulders slumped. “We are getting off topic,” she said, voice muffled.

“So, they think you’re marrying mom because she’s rich?” Cassidy asked.

“Well, they don’t know I’m marrying her yet.” Andy reminded her, “But… yeah. They might think it’s because of money.” 

“That’s not it, though, right?” Cassidy's voice was tight with anxiety. “You’re not marrying mom because of her money?”

“No,” Andy said firmly. “Of course not. I’m marrying your mom because…” she bit her lip, not sure how to put it.

“…I’m marrying her because I care about her. A lot.” Andy said carefully, “And because I care about you two. Money has nothing to do with it whatsoever.” There, she thought. That’s true without being humiliating.

Both twins nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response as they began digging out various forms of technology from their respective travel bags. Andy glanced to her right and found that Miranda was studying her intently. “That could’ve gone worse,” Andy murmured self-consciously. 

“Worse than hearing you explain to my children that your parents think I’m some sort of– of...” she struggled to find the right words.

“Sugar mommy?” Andy offered, biting back a grin.

Miranda leaned her head against the seat, staring up at the ceiling. “Never say those words to me again,” she groaned, face bright red. There was no holding back Andy’s cackle this time.

Following her daughters’ lead, Miranda pulled out her MacBook– probably to catch up on the small mountain of work that she would be missing in the days to come. 

Printing was in three days and, as always, staff was scrambling to get every minute detail perfect by the deadline. Andy knew she should probably feel guilty for pulling Miranda away during the busiest week of the month… but she couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Andy smiled as she glanced at the little stuffed dragon that she had placed on the dashboard in front of her. He was a small, cheap little thing– probably not even worth the five dollars that Miranda spent on him. 

That didn’t matter, though. Because that little bundle of sequins and polyester was now one of Andy’s most prized possessions, worthless or not. 

She had initially been mortified that Miranda had somehow caught wind of Andy’s embarrassing office nickname. (She still wanted to kill Dani for making it up). 

But once she realized that, not only did Miranda not mind Andy being known as The Dragon Tamer, but that she liked it? It took all Andy had not to swoon on the freaking spot.

All this time, Andy had been trying desperately not to get her hopes up. After all, this was Miranda-fucking-Priestley, here. Queen of fashion, empress of publishing, goddess extraordinaire. Andy knew she was hardly the first assistant to have a crush on her, and almost certainly not the last.

Miranda doesn’t fall for her twenty-eight-year-old assistants, Andy had continuously reminded herself, Questionable sexuality or not.

It had gotten especially difficult this last week, with the blossoming of their fake relationship, but still Andy kept on in her fervent denial. 

Now, though… Andy could feel the beginnings of hope taking root in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone in these feelings. Maybe the two of them could make something work. Maybe there was at least a chance?

The dragon's sequins splashed shades of blue and green across the dashboard, reflecting softly against the silver of Miranda's hair. Andy glanced over to get a better look. 

And what she saw was Miranda, dappled in color, holding her glasses in her hand. She stared blankly at the screen in front of her, tapping one of the glasses’ legs against her chin. Her eyes were glazed over– and if Andy didn’t know any better, she would think that perhaps Miranda was just as distracted as Andy herself.

Andy's grin widened, turning her eyes back to the road ahead. No, she definitely didn't feel guilty for stealing Miranda away from Runway for the week. Not even a little bit. 

—


It didn’t take long for Miranda to regret her earlier offer to drive.

Great thick sheets of rain smacked loudly against the windshield, making it even harder to see than it would have been already on such a black evening. 

To make matters worse, they had managed to get caught in standstill traffic near some insignificant town outside of Columbus. Miranda had sat clutching the wheel with both hands, shoulders remaining un-hunched only through sheer force of will.

Despite how she made it sound to Andréa, the assumption that Miranda couldn’t drive was a perfectly reasonable one. 

She hadn’t even attempted to drive since before the girls were born, and while she hadn’t forgotten how… the knowledge wasn’t exactly fresh. And the task itself wasn't exactly enjoyable for her, either. She could feel every muscle in her body tensed for the worst, and had to keep reminding herself to breathe.

But she wanted to allow Andréa a chance to rest, and Miranda would be damned if she admitted to the discomfort she felt being behind the wheel. Andréa had seen her vulnerable enough already on this little drive without Miranda monologuing any more to her about her past trauma. No, thank you. 

She was still slightly stunned at the direction their earlier conversation had taken, and Miranda did not stun easily. She hadn’t meant to make mention of Maggie. She hadn’t spoken of her sister, or anyone else in her birth family, to anyone since moving to the United States.

Oh, she had given her daughters’ the basics, of course. Their curiosity had always been insatiable, and she generally managed to satisfy them with as few details as possible. They hardly knew any more than Andréa now did. 

For that was another part of her life that Miranda preferred to keep very firmly in the past. A part she guarded fiercely. And yet with Andréa… the words fell out almost as if by accident.

While Cassidy had been content to sit and read quietly during the final hours of their drive, Caroline had quickly begun to grow restless. After her fourth time of asking, with increasing whininess, “How far away are we now?” Andréa had opted to switch seats with Cassidy, pulling out a pack of Uno cards that she had apparently been hiding for just a moment such as this. 

A hush fell over the vehicle as the two played determinedly against one another in the backseat, silence only to be broken by the occasional groan of defeat (and subsequent triumphant laughter). 

One by one, her fellow passengers gave in to the drowsiness of the day– as they slowly escaped the traffic, and Miranda drove on through the night. She Will be Loved by Maroon 5 played quietly in the background.

And so, upon entering the Sachs’ neighborhood at nearly 11:00pm, Miranda was the only wakeful party. Cassidy was curled up around her book, head laid down on the armrest between them as she snored softly. Miranda ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair as she looked into the rearview mirror, seeing Caroline sleeping upon the shoulder of Andréa, who rested with her head pressed up against the window.

Miranda did her best to take a mental snapshot of the scene before her. At that moment, everything felt so peaceful, so very right. She had a feeling that she would need to hold on to this memory in the madness of the days to come.

Finally, the GPS chirped in confirmation of their arrival. Catching her first glimpse of the home she’d be trapped in for the latter part of the next week, Miranda was surprised at what she saw. While she hadn’t expected Andréa’s family to be poor, exactly… she certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

At three stories tall, the house wasn’t quite as large as her own. However, it was easily the biggest in the neighborhood-- which was certainly saying something, in their case. With lights strewn up all around, the Sachs’ home glowed warmly, lighting the way as Miranda pulled into the drive. She wrinkled her nose. A bit early for Christmas lights, isn't it? 

Peering once again in the rearview, she saw Andréa had been jostled awake by the bumping of their entrance into the driveway. 

Sleep-heavy eyes twinkled in the lights as Andréa's face broke into a grin upon the sight of her childhood home. Charmed by the sight, Miranda returned the smile automatically, hoping that it didn’t resemble a grimace. While their arrival no doubt filled Andréa with nostalgia, it filled Miranda with only apprehensiveness.

There’s no going back now, she thought darkly. As if there ever was in the first place. It was this or Montreal. 

She listened as Andréa attempted to gently wake Caroline, and took up the considerably simpler task of rousing her other daughter in the meantime.

“Wake up, darling.” She rubbed gentle circles on Cassidy’s back, “We’re finally here.”

Blonde eyelashes fluttered, and Cassidy eyed her blearily. “Oh. You’re sure?” Miranda nodded.

“C’mon, Caroline,” came Andréa’s voice, sharper than before. “You know I’m not strong enough to carry you.”

“I’ve got it,” Cassidy sighed, turning around and stretching towards her sister before shoving her shoulder roughly. “Get up,” she shouted, “We’re here.”

“Huh?” came Caroline’s sleepy response.

In lieu of a reply, Cassidy continued to shake Caroline until finally she raised her head from Andréa’s shoulder.

“Ugh, stop it,” she swatted Cassidy's hand away. “Okay, I’m up. Jesus.” 

“Language,” Miranda scolded her, but there was little force behind it. 

Collecting their few belongings– for the majority of their luggage would stay in the car for camping the following day– the four of them trudged toward the front door with Andréa leading the way. 

Before Miranda even had time to contemplate whether it was appropriate to knock, the door swung open to reveal a man with short, graying hair, glasses, and a grin that Miranda recognized immediately.

“Dandy!” Mark exclaimed before wrapping Andréa in his embrace. Andréa rested her head on her father’s chest, eyes closed as he squeezed her tight. “We’ve missed you so much.”

“We have!” Came a woman’s voice from behind him in the doorway, “It’s been too long, sweetheart.” 

The speaker stepped into the light of the porch, and Miranda was able to see the person whom she had been looking forward to meeting least.  

Shawled in a hideous flannel robe, Pam Sachs stood tall with arms crossed, a tight smile upon her face as she watched the scene before her unfold. 

Andréa extracted herself from her father’s arms, her usually radiant smile having dimmed considerably.

“Hey, Mom.” Her voice could barely be heard above the wind blowing around them.

Andréa took a tentative step toward her mother, who quickly closed the space between them as she pulled her daughter into a hug. Shoulders stiff, Andréa gave her mother a small squeeze.

“Why don’t we talk more inside?” said Andréa’s father after the two of them pulled apart. “Come in, come in. It’s too cold to stand outside.” He rubbed his arms for effect.

Miranda chose not to comment on the fact that it would be just as cold tomorrow, when they would be spending three entire days in the elements. Instead she simply pursed her lips and followed him in.

Quiet bustling ensued as they entered the foyer, where jackets were hung, and shoes removed before the inevitable introductions began.

“Well I’m Mark, and this right here is Pam.” He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder before nodding in Miranda’s direction. “And you must be Miranda. We’re so happy to finally meet you!” 

I very seriously doubt that, she mused.
There was a beat of discomfort as Mark obviously debated whether to hug her, going so far as to open his arms before Miranda took charge of the situation. 

Putting on her most convincing smile, she stepped forward to give him an air kiss to one cheek. She did the same to Pam before turning towards the girls, indicating to each in turn. “These are my daughters, Caroline and Cassidy.”

Wide-eyed, Mark and Pam smiled when two very sleepy ‘Nice to meet you’s were directed their way. Cassidy yawned hugely, and Caroline followed suit. 

“I’d ask about the drive, but Andy texted about the traffic up north. Bad luck,” he tutted before yawning, himself. “We can give you the grand tour in the morning, but for now why don’t we worry about showing you where you’ll be sleeping while you’re here?”

Walking past a formal dining room and up the staircase, they were led to what appeared to be a family room. Filled with overstuffed furniture that went out of date more than a decade ago, a coffee table that had seen better days, and a big screen television massive enough to be somewhat overwhelming, it was apparent that the space had been designed with comfort in mind rather than style.

“Over this way will be your room,” Pam said as she led them through the space and to the right. The door creaked open quietly, and she turned on the light to reveal a master bedroom whose décor choices were somehow even more offensive than the room they just exited. 

Miranda wrinkled her nose. The theme of this room could only be grapes, with every available surface coated in various shades of deep purple. Photos of vineyards were strung up along the walls. 

“The girls will be just around the corner, in Andy’s old room. We figured you two wouldn’t mind sharing with Maddie?” she looked at Caroline and Cassidy in question. The two nodded, eyes alight with excitement despite their drowsiness.

Arms crossed, Miranda rolled her tongue over her teeth, still appraising the new space. “Very well. And where will Andréa’s room be?”

“Oh, we’re not under any illusions that you two don’t sleep in the same bed back in New York.” Mark gave an awkward little laugh, hands shoved in his robe pockets as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “She’ll stay in here with you.”

Miranda felt her eyebrows raise before she could school her expression. This was most definitely not what she had planned for. She looked over to see Andréa suddenly fascinated by the maroon patterns of the area rug beneath their feet, chewing on a thumbnail as color rose up her neck. At least Miranda wasn’t the only one caught off guard, then.

Realizing that a response was expected, finally she choked out a reply. “…ah. Yes, of course.”

Pam studied the two of them, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Any comments on their strange behavior were interrupted by Mark, however. “What do you say we go see your room now, girls?” he asked brightly, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it entirely.

Miranda moved to follow them but was stopped short when Cassidy grabbed Andréa’s hand. “Andy can show us her room. Right, Andy?”

Andréa nodded, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Sure, yeah. I’d love to.”

“Good night, Bobbseys.” She gave each of her daughters a quick kiss to the forehead before watching them go.

And, just like that, Miranda was alone for the first time since the early morning. With a bed that she was expected to share. With Andréa. She felt a pleasant warmth pool in her belly at the very idea.

Closing her eyes, Miranda shook her head at herself for so much as entertaining the thought.

Miranda refused to give in to her one-sided flights of fancy, no matter how tempting they may be. This was a business deal, nothing more. There was no reason to make their situation more complicated than it already was by adding unrealistic fantasies into the mix. 

More than there already are, anyway, she thought before she could stop herself.

Immediately Miranda went into action. She took most of the multitude of pillows off the mattress and arranged them neatly on the floor at the foot of the bed. Once the little nest was cushioned and adequately Andréa-sized, Miranda tossed the comforter on top before stepping back to examine her work. Good enough.

By the time she heard Andréa return, Miranda had already begun unpacking some essentials from her suitcase. At first Andréa said nothing, and Miranda thought that perhaps they would be able to avoid the uncomfortable conversation entirely.

“What’s this?” Andréa asked playfully. “Don’t tell me: you brought your Sferra pillows?”

No such luck, Miranda thought. She didn’t look up as she answered flatly, “I assumed that you’d appreciate some sort of barrier between yourself and the floor.”

There was a beat of silence as her words sunk in. “Excuse me?” Andréa’s voice was low.

Miranda rolled her eyes, turning to meet Andréa’s gaze. “You didn’t honestly think we were going to sleep together? I’m only willing to go so far for this little charade.” 

Andréa raised her eyebrows at the phrasing, and Miranda cursed her fair complexion as she felt herself blush at her own innuendo.

“Your little charade, you mean,” Andréa shot back, turning pink, herself. “In case you’ve forgotten, we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and your pretty little threats.”

“Is that so?” Miranda said, voice syrupy sweet even as felt her heart racing in her chest. “Because I don’t seem to recall demanding we spend an entire week romping around the dull hellscape that is the Midwest.”

Scowling, Andréa stomped across the room and began digging through her own bag, throwing clothes on the floor in her haste to reach whatever it was she was seeking.

“No one’s forcing you to be here, Miranda,” she said over her shoulder as she searched, voice shaking. “No one’s making you marry me. The only person who doesn’t have a choice here is me.” 

Finding what she was looking for, she took it in hand as she stormed to the ensuite. “If you hate it so much here, then leave. But I’ll tell you one thing, sweetheart.” Andréa stood in the doorway, gripping the knob so tightly it turned her knuckles white. “I am not sleeping on the floor in my own damn house.” 

The bathroom door slammed shut with such force that one of the gaudier picture frames, filled with photos of decoratively arranged wine bottles, fell to the floor and shattered.

Miranda dropped down onto the bed, groaning in her frustration. What the hell was that? she thought miserably.

Hearing the shower turn on, Miranda decided it was safe to change her clothes. Folding her dress before sliding into a silk nightgown, she couldn’t stop her mind from racing. 

Perhaps I overreacted. It would hardly be the first time, where Andréa was concerned. Something about her tended to cause Miranda to loosen her grip on her usually ironclad control.

Miranda carefully picked up the mess of broken glass off the floor before remaking the bed, being sure to turn down the comforter on Andréa’s side before sitting on the far edge of the mattress. She pulled out her laptop, hoping to begin wading through the mess that had become her email before bed.

The icon that read ‘Inbox (127)’ glared at her in silent judgment. Miranda glared right back, with a look so cutting that it might have sent even the bravest human adversary sprinting in fear– it had no such effect on her computer, however.

Miranda sighed as she put on her glasses. Sitting with legs criss-crossed in front of her, she rested her cheek in the palm of her hand and began scrolling. She had checked her email all of one time the entire day. If this was the result of less than twenty-four hours of negligence… she shuddered to imagine what would come of the next week.

Miranda tapped her lip absentmindedly while skimming through the emails that seemed most pertinent. Before long, though, her mind began to wander. She could scarcely finish reading a paragraph without thinking of her spat with Andréa, without replaying every word that was said. She sighed, pushing the laptop away in her frustration.

This was exactly the kind of distraction that she couldn’t afford– the kind of distraction she had been so carefully avoiding for some twenty years now. Something had to be done. She had let down entirely too many of her defenses. Brick by brick, Andréa had torn down each of Miranda’s walls without even realizing it. 

And worse, Miranda had let her. Andréa would only be around as long as she was required to be, and Miranda saw no reason to set herself up for disappointment. 

The solution to her problem was simple. Miranda had done it plenty of times by now, with other women. She would keep her distance from Andréa. Make the boundaries clear. Only then would she be able to focus on the things that truly mattered: her girls and Runway. 

Only then would she be safe.

For now, she took care of the most pressing issue first. Prioritizing was what she did best, after all. Pulling out her phone, she dialed her second assistant.

Dani answered after only one ring. “Good evening, Miranda.”

“You’re to keep up with my email this week in my absence,” she said without preamble. “I expect updates on anything important.”

“Of course, Miranda. Is there anything else I can–”

Miranda ended the call, ready to pack her MacBook away when the bathroom door opened. Shrouded by steam, Andréa poked her head out the door. Wet hair hung loose about her shoulders, beads of water dripping down the creamy length of her neck.

“Um… hey.” Shoulders hunched, she looked painfully uncomfortable.

“Hello,” Miranda licked her lips, reminding herself to avert her eyes politely. “...is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just…” her eyes searched the room. “I kind of forgot to grab a towel.”

“You forgot to…?” Miranda blinked as Andréa’s words set in. “Oh.” 

Without her permission, Miranda’s eyes traveled further down, only to see that everything below Andréa’s shoulders remained hidden behind the door. She felt an unwelcome pang of disappointment.

“Could you– I mean, would you mind grabbing me one?” she nodded toward a wardrobe across the room. “They should be in the top drawer.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Miranda nodded jerkily before beginning her search. As quickly as she could, Miranda picked a towel out of what ended up being the very bottom drawer. She averted her eyes as she handed it to Andréa, who hastily snatched it from her hands before closing the door.

Miranda was halfway back to the bed when she heard the creak of the bathroom door opening once more. She turned to see that Andréa had poked her head back out. “…thanks,” she squeaked, before shutting the door again.

Sitting on the bed, Miranda returned to her computer for no reason other than the appearance of busyness. There she sat, blind to the screen in front of her– mulling over what to say once Andréa returned.

Her efforts were wasted, however. For as soon as Andréa left the restroom– wet hair pulled back in a plait, wearing only a navy-blue camisole and men’s boxer shorts– Miranda’s mind promptly went blank. 

Andréa flopped onto the bed with a great heaving sigh. “I can’t do this, Miranda.”

Miranda tore her eyes away. So, this is it. It's over before it's even begun, she thought, already resigned to her fate. She had hoped to make it through at least one day before things fell apart. 

“Can’t do what, exactly?” She braced herself for the blow– for the rejection, the excuses… the heartache.

“This...” Andréa gestured between them, “…whatever this is.” She took a shaky breath before continuing. 

“I just– this week is gonna be hard enough without us being at each other's throats. I know there are other places you'd rather be stuck for the next few days, but…” Andréa swallowed thickly. “Even if you hate me for dragging you guys all the way out here, can't you at least pretend not to? Just… for my sanity?”

Miranda opened her mouth, only to close it again. Her mind, so recently rendered blank, was now flooded with thoughts. Overwhelmed, she said the one thing that seemed most important. 

“I don’t hate you,” Miranda breathed.

Andréa snorted. “Gee, thanks. I’ll be sure to put that on my resume. ‘Andrea Sachs: A first assistant that Miranda Priestly didn’t hate’.” Her voice cracked, and Miranda turned to see her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

Miranda felt her heart clench painfully. She slid her hand out across the scratchy comforter to give Andréa's hand a reassuring squeeze, but stopped short self-consciously. “Is that really what you think?” she whispered, “That you’re just another assistant?” 

Andréa shrugged, refusing to meet her eyes. “I care about you very much, Andréa.” Miranda said before she could think better of it. “You matter so much more to me than any of those other, silly girls.”

Andréa’s head turned slowly to face Miranda, blinking in surprise. She pawed at her moist eyes, wiping away the tears before they could fall. “You… care about me.” Andréa nodded to herself, digesting the words.

“I apologize for not making it more obvious,” Miranda said quietly, unable to meet Andréa's gaze in that moment. “I'll… try to work on that.’ 

“Wow. You care about me and you apologize. Okay.” Eyes still wet, the tears that Andréa hadn’t quite managed to remove still clung to her lashes. Miranda clasped her hands in her lap, the urge to wipe them away herself nearly overwhelming.

“Is it really so surprising?” Miranda whispered. 

“Which part?” Andréa said with a forced lightness, “I guess it’s not surprising that you care about me,” she admitted with another shrug. “But when’s the last time anyone could honestly say they got an apology from Miranda Priestly?” she gave a small, somewhat wobbly grin.

It seems I do a great many surprising things when I’m around you, Miranda thought. “Don’t get used to it,” she retorted instead.

Andréa snorted, moving to sit up. Looking beyond Miranda, she winced at what she saw. Following her gaze, Miranda spotted the small trash can now filled with the broken remnants of the shattered picture frame.

“Sorry about that,” Andréa said, picking at the comforter. “You didn’t have to pick up after my temper tantrum.” Miranda waved the apology away. It was quiet, then– and for the first time she could remember, the silence between them was awkward, made dense with words unsaid.

—