Archive of Our Own

Emily didn’t regret Runway, it was the reason she had a career in the fashion industry. Yet, Emily couldn’t help but regret three specific things that happened at Runway. And somehow, they were all connected to Andrea Sachs.

She didn’t hate the woman, but the woman was the reason she ended up at Dior and away from her dream role at Runway. And the worst part of it was that Andrea didn’t even know about the three revelations Emily had because of her.

The first and the most fatal for herself was the realization she liked girls. And now, she had no prejudices around queer women, she was in the fashion industry for gods’ sake. Most of the women were queer, or at the very least had experimented with each other. Did they hide it from the general public? Of course. But those who were within the industry knew. You couldn’t walk into a dressing room without catching at least two of the models feeling each other up.

Emily had believed for her entire twenty-three years of life she only found men attractive. That the weird pull in her stomach when she saw the models was simple jealousy. Or even the occasional pity when Miranda loudly ripped into a size zero model for still being too fat. She was only a size two, what must Miranda think of her.

And then fucking Andrea Sachs had the nerve to waltz into Runway like she wasn’t about to change the entire carefully planned trajectory of Emily’s life. Not even the physicists for the Manhattan Project had been as careful as Emily had. The right conversations with the right people at the right time, a perfect internship with Miranda’s favorite English fashion magazine, and a perfectly curated interview outfit. Every detail had been perfect, and it had paid off.

And it had been thrown off course faster than Emily could keep up with. All thanks to the walking fashion disaster who was exceptional at taking advice and was just as good as Emily at her job. It should have threatened Emily, should have made her set Andrea up to fail from the start. But she didn’t. Emily’s entire world tilted when Andrea Sachs walked in with thigh Channel boots and a smile Emily didn’t understand. And therefore, Andrea thrived as Miranda’s second assistant.

Sure, Emily was still mean, and made snide comments about Andrea’s hair or makeup, but she didn’t in front of Miranda. No, only when it was the two of them, early mornings before Miranda arrived or late at night when they were finishing some impossible tasks.

It was two months before Paris when Emily finally made the connection. When her neurons finally snapped together and the separate feelings combined to become one coherent thought: Andrea Sachs was beautiful and Emily didn’t want anyone else to realize it.

She liked Andy. Not just as a co-worker, not just as friend, but as something more. And just when she finally thought her world was righting itself back on its axis, she was thrown off towards Venus.  

Which fine, she could course correct. Find all the flaws in the other woman and focus on those to get over whatever stupid crush had developed around her brain. She became ruder towards Andy, more callous, but still couldn’t bring herself to in front of Miranda.

Unfortunately for her, it became a double-edged sword. It caused her to drive Andrea away, to withdraw from the life she had started to make at Runway, and it only caused her crush to fester further, because looking for flaws meant, well, more looking.

More looking at her face, at the way her lips curled when she smiled talking to the Hermes assistant she had somehow befriended. More looking at how each outfit hugged Andrea’s body in all the right places. More looking at the way Andrea’s hands flexed around her pen when writing down instructions for Miranda.

Looking, always looking.

It got so bad that even Nigel noticed. She stopped looking for flaws that same afternoon.

And then Andrea left. Emily knew it was going to happen, Andy never stopped talking about Runway as nothing more than a steppingstone towards a career in real journalism. Towards a career where she could make a difference in everyday people’s lives, not just the ultra-wealthy who had the time and money to ponder the differences in blue blazers.

Emily knew it was going to happen, she just thought she had three more months until it happened. Three months to square away her heart and move on from the schoolgirl crush she had developed. Instead, all she got was a call from Miranda letting her know she would require a new assistant when she arrived back in New York.

Andrea had thrown her phone into a fountain in the middle of Paris, quitting Runway without a goodbye and leaving Emily’s heart shattered into more pieces than she knew what to do with.

But then Andrea had called. Had asked if she wanted the extra clothes from Paris because she didn’t have any use for them anymore. Andrea had thought of Emily. Her heart had stitched back together faster than she could process.

Andrea thought of her, thought more of her than her unnecessarily rude coworker who starved herself to be considered good enough by a fashion mogul to go to Paris. She knew Emily would value the pieces; would make sure they cared for the way they should be. Because Andrea may not want to work in fashion, but she had grown to understand why people cared. Why Emily cared.

It had emboldened Emily. Made her feel seen and cared for. So, she called.

And Andrea didn’t pick up. Never called her back.

Emily’s heart was never quite the same after that. A little more jagged with thick scar tissue to protect the softer inner workings. She was never sure if it was to protect her heart from herself, or from others.

Miranda dumped her off to Dior three months later with a glowing recommendation and a silent don’t come back here, you’re not welcome.

Emily did the only thing she knew how to do. She threw herself into her work and into the beds of rich men who didn’t want anything more from her than her body. The work at Dior was hard but rewarding in away Emily didn’t know she needed and the relationships distracted her from the work.

She tried once with a woman. A tall blonde who reminded her of every model ever. They lasted three months because Emily realized real relationships required work and commitment, required her to give herself over to someone. They ended well all things considered. Emily knew it was her fault and Ally knew that too.

With Facebook emerging, they kept in touch here and there. Ally was also involved with fashion and so they saw each other occasionally at events. Emily sent two one-thousand-dollar gift cards when she saw Ally got married.

She kept climbing the ladder at Dior, making a name for herself across the fashion world. She met Frank five years after she called Andy and never got a phone call back.

It was easy. A high-profile fashion designer and an investment banker didn’t have much time. Only ever enough to rant about the stress of their jobs to someone who just understood. Who didn’t make a fuss when date night got cancelled last minute because of a client request. Someone who desperately needed connection but didn’t have the time for it beyond a long-winded rant once a week and a good fuck a few times a week.

Emily should have known it was never going to last. The two of them couldn’t even make it through a vacation without a fight. The rare time they both got two weeks off was always spoiled by a fight making them both wonder if it was worth it. But then real life came crawling back and the ease of two people who understood that life made them forget.

The late nights at the office, the impossible demands of clients and bosses, the nights when they questioned if they were cut out for the careers they craved. They were never questioned and it made it so easy for them to ignore each other’s flaws. Enough to ignore that Frank was man.

Emily and Frank got married at twenty-nine at an estate on the coast of Scotland. Their first child was born a year and half later. That’s when the cracks started to show. When suddenly they saw each other every day, how a few nights a week became all the time. How Frank couldn’t put his career on hold and didn’t understand why Emily was upset that she had to.

Because they were both egotistical. You didn’t rise to where they were without thinking you were the best. The drive to grind through the late nights and alcohol-inducing quests only came from yourself. And only people who thought of themselves as the best thrived.

But there was one thing Frank wasn’t, and that was stupid. He was smart, he knew what Emily wanted and for the sake of trying to revert to their old ways, he started to step up. A year later their second child was born.

They divorced two years later. Pretty on paper, tyrannical in practice. But they made it work for the kids, the one thing they could agree upon. Their children came before anything, even themselves.

So yes, Emily didn’t regret Runway. She couldn’t even truly regret Andrea. Didn’t regret falling for Andrea either. But everything left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it.

Which is why she stopped thinking about it. Had been very successful in doing so. She supposed that was the reason why fate decided to play its nastiest trick on her and throw her right back into where it had all started.

With Andrea Sachs walking right towards her with a smile on her face like no time had passed. Like she hadn’t shattered Emily Charlton’s heart without so much a backwards glance.

And so, Emily Charlton did the one thing she knew how to do. Throw herself into her career and into the arms of the next rich man who came her way.

Benji, well, he was easy. Easy to control, easy to clean up with a razor, and easy to forget about. Because unlike Frank, he was stupid. He let Emily do whatever she wanted with him, let her control any money she wanted because frankly, money was of no concern. Emily could spend all the money in his checking account, and he’d have it all back within a day.

He thought of himself as smart and in control. Liked to think he was the smartest person in the room. And to extent he had to be, but Emily knew he just got lucky on a risky idea and now had advisors running his business. And Emily was just smarter, more calculating, more everything a woman had to be to stand out.

Most importantly, Benji distracted her when Andrea was around. He was needy in a way Emily only let her kids be, which grated on her nerves but also took up her attention. Let her miss the way Andrea stared at her like something gone too late. Let her miss the longing stare Andy had during the Met when she saw Emily with Benji for the first time. Let her miss seeing Andy’s heart shatter like hers had twenty years prior.

But the thing about Andrea Sachs was she had uncanny ability to worm her way into Emily’s life.

And her heart.

Emily should be upset, should be cursing Andy out on the street about how she ruined the plans for her life.

Emily let her in away.

Andrea was genuine, a kind soul who wore their emotions on their sleeve and didn’t care if they got burnt. Emily knew that. And to her own horror, she exploited that.

It had been late, far later than Emily should have been out, but Benji was in a spending mood, and Emily wouldn’t let that go to waste. Next semester’s tuition had been first, but after that, a new necklace was in the cards.

He paid the deposit without a second thought, she had kissed him in thanks, because to keep him with her, she had to play along. She regretted that kiss more than the others. Because that kiss let her see the crest fallen face of Andrea Sachs when she spun around, back towards the mirror to admire the necklace.

And because twenty years of muscle memory training to not react when she saw Andrea’s face went out the window the second she saw her, Emily jerked. She let the panic wash over her face, let her feet shuffle forward before Benji caught her thinking she had tripped. Before Benji wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek, beard scratching along her cheek.

She turned to slap his hands away, but when she looked out the window again, Andrea was gone. She had been too late twenty years ago, and now, she had been too late again. Some thought Emily as emotionally dense, but no one could have missed what Andrea’s face meant. Especially not Emily. Because she had seen that same face reflected back at her in the mirror for twenty years.

Heartbreak.

Something to exploit. She had exploited herself. And now she knew how to exploit Andrea.

She told herself she wouldn’t. That it was wrong. Wouldn’t do the same thing she was doing to Benji to Andy. He was a rotten billionaire who thought AI could turn the fashion industry around. Andrea was someone who understood the grind it took to become great, who understood why the fashion industry needed to exist.

She wouldn’t unless Andrea let herself be exploited. Unless she came to Emily with a plan that Emily could twist just enough in secret to make it her own. Andrea would never, Emily was sure.

Andrea did, and Emily hated herself for the first time in her life for being right.

Andrea came because she was smart and understood resources. Understood Emily was the bridge she needed to cross to get access to the resources. Because she thought this Emily was the same Emily from twenty years ago. The one who revered Miranda and Runway. The one who would do anything to make sure Runway succeeded.

And she would. Just without the woman who banished her from her dream. Who had tossed her aside like one of her jackets. She had given her life to Miranda and all she got in return was job she didn’t want and life she never saw herself living.

Emily had nearly shut the door in Andy’s face when she showed up at her hotel room. If Andy never crossed the threshold, Emily couldn’t exploit the woman.

She let her in anyways.

Twenty years later, she still couldn’t say no to the girl.

Two hours later, a phone call to Benji, and contract written up by the on-call lawyers, it was done. Elias-Clark would be owned by Benji. Runway would be saved and the fashion industry would carry on like it always had.

With one small detail. Miranda Priestly would be forced out, and Emily Charlton would be the new Head of Fashion for Runway.

Emily was nearly grateful Miranda had figured out the plan. Had exposed Emily’s betrayal right in front of Andrea. The woman wouldn’t forgive her. Emily would finally have the closure to move on.

Would she have new wounds to heal from since Miranda gave her the verbal lashing of a lifetime? Yes, but those would be easier to heal from than heartbreak.

Emily made the mistake of looking at Andrea after she had been ripped to shreds. And yes, she knew that look, and for the second time in as many days, Emily regretted looking at Andrea Sachs.

No hate, no disgust, not even pity.

Forgiveness. Understanding. Love.

It was the single most embarrassing thing that had happened to Emily. Because Andrea understood why Emily did what she had done. Why she had exploited the woman’s eagerness to help. Why she had betrayed the trust Andy had given her without hesitation.

Because Miranda had ruined Emily. Had ruined the person Emily was becoming with a single phone call to Dior. Had ruined the potential Emily always saw in herself. And Emily had finally been given the ability to take back the control she had lost all those years ago.

But Miranda Priestly had a funny way of knowing everything and ruining everything Emily had pined for again.

And Andrea saw through it all and chose to forgive Emily without a second thought.

The lunch was a formality afterwards. Emily had needed time to lick her wounds and restructure the life she had lost yet again. Andrea needed to see through the new merger and make sure the features department found its footing.

But it had been nice. Had been nice to have the verbal conformation that Andy had indeed forgiven her for the betrayal. Emily had Andrea back in her life after twenty years, and there was no way she was going to have another regret because of the woman.

All of that to say, Emily and Andrea had wine nights now. Sometimes at a bar near one of their offices, as they only worked a few blocks apart. Too far if you asked Emily, she missed being only five feet away from Andy. But after twenty years and God knows how many miles, she’d accept three blocks.

Other times it was at one of their apartments. Andy’s when Frank had the kids on Friday nights, Emily’s after the kids had gone to bed.

It was nice. The seething remarks from Emily were nearly zero. Turns out when your cortisol levels dropped because you weren’t working for a borderline sociopath who determined your entire career, it was a lot easier to be friends with coworkers.  

“I just don’t understand what you saw in him, Em. I mean sure, yes, he’s attractive, but he’s an asshole.” Andy said, wine glass held loosely in her grip as they went over this topic yet again. It got brought up nearly every time as Frank had a special way of fucking up.

“He was easy, Andy. He was a stable figure in my life when I was breaking at the seams, and I mistook it for love.” Emily explained, reaching out to steady Andy’s arm before the wine stained her couch.

“Still! A quick fuck and a rant doesn’t seem like a reason to marry someone.”

Emily rolled her eyes, here they go again, “Honestly, I don’t know why I keep defending my thought process. He understood the pressure I was under and never got upset when I had to cancel. It was a good stress relief for the both of us and we both needed something easy in our lives when everything outside was chaos.”

“Okay fine,” Andy conceded, “But two kids with him? I know you love your kids more than anything but how on Earth did you let him have two kids with you?”

“The first one was just natural honestly. We still didn’t see each other that often, sure we lived together but it’s not like we were ever there at the same time. At most we were just sleeping next to each other and it’s really hard to fight when the person next to you is unconscious.” Emily explained, taking a sip from her glass.

They were sitting in Emily’s apartment, the New York skyline giving a calming backdrop to their night. They had started at a bar but after getting hit on by one too many college aged interns, Andy demanded they go back to Emily’s.

Both of them were on the couch, Emily with one leg tucked under her and the other propped up giving her chin a place to rest. Andy had both legs tucked under her and her left arm was on the back of the couch. That hand alternated between supporting her head or gesturing wildly with the other when a point needed extra emphasis.

Like right then, “Okay yes, I understand the first one. But two?”

Emily held her hands up, “Would it make you feel better if I said you’re right? The cracks in our relationship widened after Bronwyn was born, but we both needed each other still. The mutual understanding lessened, but then Frank shaped up suddenly. Before I knew it, I was pregnant again. The perfect New York nuclear family.”

“And yet…” Andy said.

“And yet we got divorced a month after Roark turned two.”

“You know,” Andy started, “You never did explain how the divorce went.”

Emily quirked an eyebrow, “Three glasses of wine and all of the sudden you’re New York’s gossip queen.”

“Come on, Em” Andy said, stretching the words and pouting.

God damn it.

“It was a few months before Roark turned two when I served Frank the papers. He wasn’t surprised. He was a terrible husband but he’s a good father. Our kids were the most important thing in our lives and separating was what was best for them. On paper the divorce was amicable, pleasant even. Frank works in finance, so we never had a joint bank account. The only asset we owned together was our apartment and, in our agreement, I bought out his share so the kids would only have to move once. Custody was set as two weeks on two weeks off. Alternating holidays.” Emily explained. She was going to need another glass of wine.

“And that picture?” Andy said, pointing to a picture held in a nice wooden frame, propped on top of a buffet where most of the children’s photos were, “You mentioned once that it was taken a week after Roark’s second birthday.”

The photo in question was a ‘canid’ family shot of them all at Central Park. The two kids were running in front of their parents, faces wide with smiles. They had on denim overalls with light blue button-up shirts under, and brown boating shoes. Emily and Frank were dressed similarly, with Emily in white pants and a matching shirt to the kids, sleeves rolled up exposing her forearms. Frank had on a nice pair of jeans that matched the kid’s overalls, and a white button down flowing loosely around his upper body.  

The two parents were smiling, heads titled down, watching their kids run. They didn’t hold hands, but their postures were relaxed and there was an ease to the photo. If Andrea hadn’t known the divorce papers had been signed three weeks later, she would have thought of them as the perfect family.

“Roark was only two, we knew he wouldn’t have any memories of us being a family. Bronwyn would have some, we made sure to keep the fighting away from her, but they’d be hazy in the future. Frank and I agreed we wanted a photo the kids could have of their family together, looking happy and carefree. The photographer was a friend of ours who understood and had us do shots like that to minimize the tension between Frank and I.” Emily said, tilting her head back slightly to stop the tear that had welled up from falling. She wiped it away before taking a sip of her wine.

How she wished her kids could have the perfect family they deserved, but there was no way they could when Frank couldn’t balance being a banker, father, and husband. There was no way when Emily’s heart always belonged to someone else and couldn’t keep pretending otherwise.

“Shit, Em,” Andy said, reaching out and giving Emily’s knee a squeeze, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Emily waved her off, “It’s fine. I chose to explain when I know you would have let it drop if I asked.”

“I still think Frank is a piece of shit for how he treated you, but I’m glad he’s a good father to the kids.”

“Yes well, even the most flawed individuals can still redeem themselves to some degree,” Emily smirked, “I mean look at you. You came rocking into Runway not knowing Miranda’s name and then somehow became the showstopper of the entire office.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Andy laughed, “Don’t ever compare me at Runway to your shitty ex-husband who thought you could run a fashion empire and be a full-time mom without help.”

Emily only smiled teasingly and took another sip of her wine.

“You want to open another bottle? Frank has the kids this weekend and I know you don’t have any interviews tomorrow.” Emily asked, already standing and walking over to her wine cabinet. A soft jazz record was playing through the apartment, keeping the atmosphere calm yet still alive.

“Only if you agree to tell me why the hell you said yes to Benji.” Andrea said. She laughed when she heard the groan Emily let out at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.

“Why do you want to hear about that disaster of a relationship?” Emily plucked a rosé out from the back and made her way back to the couch.

“For exactly that reason.”

“He was rich, I needed a patron, and he was easy to manipulate.” Emily listed off.

Andy raised her eyebrows at the answer, “Doesn’t seem like the best pretense to start a relationship off with.”

“Oh, he wasn’t aware. He was just another rotation in the cycle of my decision making.” The rosé was a bad idea; it always made her talk. It was after all how Frank had found out about Andrea.

“Your what?” Andy asked.

Emily swallowed the rest of her wine and set her glass down on the table, “You know, you feel like you’re falling apart, like the ground might as well open beneath you. Your brain starts to develop patterns then, ways of thinking to calm itself down. Mine just happen to be throwing myself headfirst into work and into the arms of a rich man who doesn’t ask too many questions.”

Now it was mixed in with school plays and soccer practice, but the core remained the same. Emily Charlton’s central dogma. Fall apart, fall into work, fall into bed with a rich man. Easy, clean, simple. The purest form of her existence.

“And how long has this been your pattern of behavior?” Andy asked, hesitant.

“Since you felt Runway.” It seemed like she was on the confession train tonight with no destination in mind.

Andy stuttered, unsure of what to say, “Since I-, Em, what?”

Perhaps four glasses of wine wasn’t Emily’s smartest move if she wanted to keep her mouth shut, “You left, I didn’t know how to live without your presence, so I threw myself into that routine. Works for a while before it collapses in on itself.” The lysosome was generally a breakup or a promotion so she could breathe again.

But there’s only a certain amount of matter in the universe. It was finite, just like Emily’s tolerance for Andrea’s absence. There was a limit before the singularity that was Andrea Sachs took over Emily’s mind. And thus, the cycle began again.

Andy leaned back, running a hand through her hair. She was trying to process what Emily had confessed.

Emily was imagining that hand running through her hair, maybe even grabbing it to pull her closer and-

“I’m still failing to understand how me leaving Runway caused you to turn to this.” She gestured to the apartment, though more broadly Emily’s life, “Em, you barely tolerated me at the best of times, downright hated me the rest of the time.”

“That’s not true.” Emily said, getting defensive.

Andrea gave her a deadpanned look, “Emily, you once told me that my handwriting was going to get you fired or worse, keep you from Paris.”

Alright, maybe Andy had a point.

“I let it slide then because I was young and in desperate need of any advice I could get. If that came at the price of insults and snide comments so be it.” Andy said.

“And you let it slide now because?”

Andy breathed out, “Because I can look back and see how stressed you were. How you were trying to survive just as hard as I was at Runway. Miranda made your life hell, and you were too young to know how to regulate all your emotions. You took out your frustrations on the nearest and easiest target, me.”

When did this turn into Emily’s therapy session? Those were on Tuesday’s at 4pm, not, she craned her head to look at the clock, 10pm on a Friday.

“I’ll have you know, I only did that because I wanted your attention.” Emily said.

“So you bullied me like a child on the playground?” Andy asked, trying hard to keep the laugh suppressed in her throat.

“Well, when you put it that way.” Emily looked down at her wine glass.

Andy couldn’t keep the laugh down any longer, “Okay okay, but why did you want my attention so bad? I was at your beck and call; all you had to do was say my name. Not insult everything about me?”

Andy wasn’t upset. They had been kids still, emotionally strung out and too stressed to think straight. She was pretty sure had she been at Runway for two years and Miranda’s first assistant, she wouldn’t have been much better than Emily.

“You, you intrigued me. You took up a lot of my metal load and so I was just trying to satisfy that craving.” Emily said. Which, when she thought about it, sounded pretty fucking gay. Which it was, but Andy didn’t need to know that.

She did now though. And she was smart enough to read between the lines, “Oh my god, you totally had a crush on me.”

“And would it,” a small pause, “would it make you uncomfortable if I said I did?” Emily asked, timidly.

Andrea sat up straight then, making sure to catch Emily’s eyes, “Em, of course not. You can’t help who you like.”

“Thanks,” a longer pause, “If it won’t give you too much of an ego, you were the one who made me realize I liked girls.”

“Wait, really?” Andy asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I always had this weird pull in my stomach when I saw the models sometimes. I thought it was just jealousy, but then you had your whole make over and everything just clicked into place. That same pull in my stomach coupled with my brain’s inability to stop think thinking about you, well, you know.” Emily wasn’t sure how to finish off the thought. She felt sheepish admitting it twenty years too late, but it was nice to have out in the open.  

“Oh, Em,” Realization had dawned upon Andy, “You didn’t just have a crush, you actually liked me. When I left, I broke your heart.”

“Ah, ah,” Emily shouted, “no, no pity or sympathy. It was twenty years ago and I’m big girl. I got over it.”

But Andrea had always been too smart for Emily’s good, too smart for both of their wellbeing’s, “Except you haven’t, have you? Me leaving was the catalyst for your destructive behavior. You didn’t know how to get over it, so you threw yourself into work and bad relationships to distract yourself.”

Emily looked down, tears in her eyes, “Andrea, I am begging you to please stop.”

She felt Andy shift on the couch, felt the weight dissipating. Andy was leaving her again.

Twenty years and still nothing had changed. Emily was hopelessly in love with a woman she could never have and that same woman was walking out like she hadn’t shattered Emily’s heart.

But she’d be brave this time. She’d watch as Andy walked out the door, watch as Andy stomped over the already broken pieces of her heart. Maybe it’d make it easier. Help her get over it faster. Maybe it wouldn’t. She’d already spent twenty years pining, what’s twenty more?

Emily looked up, ready to watch Andrea leave her once again. Instead, she found Andy crouched down in front of her, hands grabbing her wrists to pull her attention towards the journalist.

She had the softest smile on her face. It should have felt like pity. It felt more like hope.

Like love.

“Em, I’m not going to ask you to look at me, but I do you need to listen. I walked out of Runway for two reasons. The most obvious one being I wasn’t cut out for the industry, and Miranda passing over Nigel confirmed it for me. The second reason was because I couldn’t stand being five feet away from someone who I loved but didn’t have a chance with. I couldn’t stand there and pine for someone when I had boyfriend waiting at home. I was confused and lonely, so I took the easy way out. I left.” Andy said, her voice shaking with barely restrained emotion. She felt Emily go rigid, preparing for the final blow to the cobbled together confidence she had built.

“It doesn’t make it right, it doesn’t make it okay. It doesn’t erase the fact I broke both of our hearts when I thought I was protecting mine.” Her voice broke at the end, the tears now running free down her face.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Emily whispered, “Why didn’t I say anything?”

Andy smiled again, ducking down even further to catch Emily’s eyes, “I don’t know. But what I do know is that we’ve successfully wasted twenty years by being weighed down by the guilt of our feelings.”

Emily shifted, letting her legs fall to the floor, keeping Andrea solely in front of her. She was trapped by the coffee table and each of Emily’s legs. It wasn’t a strong cage, but it was clear moral one. Leave its confines, and any hope of a future together would shatter. Emily felt like Atlas then, the entire weight of their future pressing down on her, only her strength keeping it from falling into the abyss.

She looked at Andy and saw the sincerity in the woman’s eyes. She meant every word and then some. Andrea Sachs wanted Emily Charlton just as badly.

A flicker of glace down to Andy’s lip, a nod of permission, and twenty years of pent-up feelings exploded.

Andy surged up, cupping Emily’s face with her hands, and pulling her into a kiss. Emily gasped at the desperation but quickly recovered and returned the kiss.

It was desperate, clingy, and borderline obsessive. It should have repulsed her. Instead, it lit a fire in her stomach. Andy tasted like the wine they’d been sharing and it caused Emily to moan, letting the sweet cherry flavor envelop her senses.

Emily ran her tongue across Andy’s lips, and the taller woman parted them for her, both moaning when their tongues met. Andrea pushed up further, causing Emily to lean back onto the couch.

With the grace of someone who had too much practice, Emily would have to ask later, Andy crawled on top of Emily, letting her weight settle on either side of the woman’s hips. Emily looped her arms around Andrea’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer.

She smiled into the kiss after a bit, causing Andy to pull back slightly, “You okay?” Andy asked.

“Better than okay.” Emily answered, brushing away the flyways from Andy’s forehead.

Andy leaned back in a stole a quick kiss before brushing her lips across Emily’s forehead, “I’m sorry for being so stupid.”

“I’m sorry too,” Emily said, tightening her hold on Andrea, she wasn’t ready to let go just yet, “But we’re here now.”

They continued to kiss lazily for a while longer, not rushing into anything more, but needing the physical intimacy to settle their nerves.

Andy ended up laying back against one of the arm rests, Emily snuggled up on her chest, listening to her heartbeat and basking in the closeness they got to share. Their hands were joined, the same jazz record spinning repeatedly in the background. Andy kept laying small kisses on Emily’s forehead, enjoying the way Emily nuzzled further into her after each one.

“I love you, Emily Charlton.” Andy said, looking down at the redhead.

Emily tilted her head up, looking at Andy as she said, “I love you too, Andrea Sachs.” Their lips met again in a simple kiss, the feeling of love hanging over them.

Emily couldn’t bring herself to regret Runway. Couldn’t bring herself to regret what Runway had done to her.

Without Runway, Emily would have never met Andrea. Did it take them twenty years to get where they were now?

Yes.

But what’s twenty years compared to a lifetime and beyond.

As far as Emily and Andrea were concerned, it was nothing.

Not when they had each other again.