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The thing about being persona non grata was you had to stay out of the public eye. People didn’t want to see you, wanted to forget they had ever associated with someone so unwelcomed. Not to mention, persona non grata ended up at Coach, the laughingstock of the fashion world.
Emily still held influence though, just because she was out of favor didn’t mean people stopped listening. Eventually, someone else would become the persona non grata of the fashion world, allowing Emily to come back from exile like she never left. And so, people didn’t completely isolate her. She was still invited to some events, mostly charity galas, as she was a known patron of the arts.
She hovered right outside of the social sphere, whispering ideas to those who still respected her, knowing her favors would be paid back in time.
But she was still the social pariah of the industry and that meant she was always on her heels, pivoting conversations away from her. She also knew that being associated with her caused controversy and a near automatic ticket to Miranda Priestly’s bad side.
Which meant of course she and Andy kept their relationship hidden, out of the public eye and certainly away from anywhere Miranda could sniff it out.
If they wanted to go to dinner, they took a car to Brooklyn. They went to Astoria Park for walks. And they always arrived separately at events. It was just how it had to be done for a time. Just until Emily was reinstated in good faith.
They snuck around like teenagers most of the time. Hats covering their faces, only arriving to each other’s apartments after dark, an air of indifference when they saw each other at events.
It sucked.
Andy hated it, thought it was unnecessary.
Emily hated it but thought it was absolutely necessary.
She refused to be the reason Andy fell out of favor with Miranda, not when her career was at an all-time high. Emily would not be the reason Andy joined her in fashion world exile.
Full stop.
And so, the cycle began of the two of them getting ready separately, arriving separately and leaving separately. Only stolen glances and a small brush of hands in passing at events. A text sometime during dinner saying how amazing the other looked. A secret smile across tables in acknowledgment.
Andy would always leave first, following Miranda out. She’d scribble notes in the car as Miranda talked endlessly about the events, only half listening as she pictured Emily in her outfit. Roy would take Miranda home first and then drive Andy to her apartment building where she would wait until Emily finished up.
Emily was always one of the last leave, the old motto of first one in and last one out becoming prevalent in her life again. She had to be seen but couldn’t make noise. Her outfits were always understated and monochromatic. Classic and acceptable, everything she was not. Her personal touch of edginess gone, vanished from her wardrobe faster than one could blink.
After the majority of the people had left, only the assistants and new editors left, would Emmily leave. Her car would take her to Andy’s building, her driver having no idea who the mystery person was as Emily wasn’t taking any chances.
Some may think Emily was ashamed of her love for Andy. Unwilling to break social norms just so she could climb back into favor.
They were wrong. Her love of Andy is what drove her to hide their relationship. She wouldn’t break social norms because she was fearful of what would happen to Andy if she did. It hurt every time she saw Andy arrive in one of the most sough-after outfits and knowing she couldn’t kiss her or hold her hand.
She had to watch as all the eligible men threw themselves at her girlfriend, flirting with her and complimenting the latest piece she had wrote. Andy always complained after, groaning about how it was painfully clear they had only read the most recent article, so they’d have a conversation starter. How when she brough up another piece of hers that related, they’d have no idea what she was talking about.
No matter how much Andy hated the arrangement, she understood. She didn’t agree with Emily’s logic, arguing how it was stupid exile still existed in the twenty-first century, let alone in the fashion world. It shouldn’t matter if they were different social circles now, they were dating and in love, everyone else could get on board or leave. But she did understand Emily’s worry, appreciated how much Emily cared for her career.
She also knew Emily understood the fashion world to a microscopic level. Knew every in and out of it, the do’s and don’ts better than anyone in the world. It’s how she gathered support for herself during her staged takeover of Runway. Andy found the process eerily similar to that of the Roman Republic senate. If the plot failed, all those who had helped suddenly threw themselves at the feat of the consul. Begging for forgiveness and claiming they hadn’t understood the extent of the plot. History really does repeat itself.
And so, she trusted Emily. She played along, listened to men flirt with her, exchanged pleasantries with people so out of her tax bracket Andy wondered if there even was one. She didn’t talk to Emily during the events, didn’t FaceTime her when they were getting ready since Miranda insisted on a stylist doing Andrea’s makeup.
No, she settled for soft smiles from across the room, eye contact for a second too short, and brush of hands when they passed. It was sublet to the point Miranda missed it, even Nigel didn’t notice.
Their one ground rule was that they wouldn’t dance with other people, which meant no dancing at all. The galas often had a formal dancing portion of the night where the couples got a chance to show off their outfits for everyone to admire. Andy got approached often to dance with some of the men she had talked to earlier in the evening, but they always got turned down. Polite and with a smile, but enough times they stopped asking all together.
During normal days, it felt silly how secretive they were being. Andy was an approved contact and pickup person for Emily’s kids, often taking them to hockey and ballet practice. She got them from school when Emily had to work late and took them to get ice cream on those days. That always earned her a stern eyeroll, but it was worth it to see the kids happy.
Emily’s ex-husband was technically the only person who knew about their relationship, but she had served him with an NDA so fast Andy had no time to react.
Andy always thought it was going to be her that snapped, that said fuck it and kiss Emily in front of everyone and declare their love. She was a patient woman who respected Emily’s boundaries but even she had a limit.
It just happened to turn out Emily’s patience was lower than hers.
The annual Children’s Hospital Charity Gala always happened on the third Friday of January. It held a special place in many of New York’s wealthiest hearts. It was the first major gala of the year and usually a good way for them to show off their new acquired wealth from the year prior. It was also the first major opportunity for Runway to sink its teeth into the new year’s fashion trends.
Emily was always on the guest list, even with her being persona non grata. Roark’s birth had been traumatic, and he had spent several weeks in the NICU afterwards, leading to Emily making one of the largest donations recorded during the event. The organizers could never leave her off.
Miranda was of course invited not only as the Editor and Chief of Runway but also as one of New York’s wealthiest patrons. She always made sure to donate and buy one piece of art from the auction, ensuring her good standing for the year to come.
And as the Features Editor at Runway, Andy was also invited.
Even though they planned to stay once again separate, their outfits were impeccably coordinated. Emily was starting to be bolder in her outfit choices, still safe but no longer afraid to throw in some color. Her deep blue dress matched perfectly with the silk blouse Andy wore under her suit jacket.
But there was something so heartbreaking about being at her favorite event without her favorite person by her side. Emily’s chest hurt watching Andy from across the room, and her eyes slightly watered at the absolute longing she felt to be next to her.
Andy caught her staring multiple times, even raising her eyebrow at one point, a silent are you okay? Because Emily knew if she said no, just a slight shake of her head, Andy would leave right there and come to see how she could help. She always nodded, a sharp movement meant to make Andy stop looking so concerned.
Dinner went fine, she and Andy were even only seated a few tables away. Close enough Emily could make out the small smile lines Andy got when she laughed. She hated it wasn’t her making her laugh, but the sight was enough to dispel any jealousy.
The table Emily was sitting at was the highest-ranking table she had set at in nearly a year. The people around her were high in the art and culinary worlds, their influence clear in an event like this. Two years ago, she would have been sitting two chairs away from Miranda, but she took what she could get now.
The auction portion of the night was directly after dinner. A few of the small pieces were sold to up-and-coming designers trying to make their mark in the world they suddenly found themselves in. The items worked their way up the tax brackets, eventually landing in the area Emily was happy to participate in. She ended up with a Doig landscape she’d been eyeing for a while and also wrote a substantial donation check.
Miranda ended up with a piece a few items down the line, a sculpture for the middle of Runway’s lobby no doubt. It felt competitive in a way Emily knew wasn’t there, Miranda didn’t acknowledge she existed and yet Emily was still somehow chasing for her approval.
The dancing segment of the night was directly after and both Emily and Andy watched as the couples got up and moved to the dance floor. They found each other’s eyes and smiled sadly, both wishing it could be them up there.
Emily wasn’t sure what possessed her, maybe it was the fact she was sitting with her social class again, maybe it was because she had made sure her and Andy were matching, or maybe it was even because she wanted to see the smug smirk fall off Miranda’s lips. Regardless of what it was, Emily found herself standing up and walking towards the center table.
Andy watched the events unfold with a quirked eyebrow and small feeling of hope in her chest. Because Emily was talking towards her table, towards her.
Miranda opened her mouth to speak, no doubt some snide remark but Emily breezed right past, heading straight towards Andy.
“Em?” Andy asked, her voice somewhere between confused and delighted.
“Darling,” Emily drawled, extending her hand, “may I have this dance?”
Andy took Emily’s offered hand and stood, “You can have all of them.”
They made their way to the dance floor, waiting for a gap to open up. It felt like the entire room was staring at them, watching as the woman Miranda had cast into exile and her senior editor stood holding hands, about to dance.
The formal part of the dance had ended during Emily’s walk to the center table and now the couples stood swaying softly to the music.
Andy’s arms found their way around her waist and Emily looped her arms behind Andy’s neck, letting their foreheads gently rest against each other.
“Everyone’s staring.” Andy whispered.
“Let them, I don’t care anymore.”
Andy smiled, “Okay.”
The dancing was slow but the electricity running through their bodies was like lightning strikes. They felt alive together, a closeness only two bonded entities could share.
Emily shifted slightly, tucking her head under Andy’s chin, feeling as the woman adjusted slightly, letting her cheek rest atop of Emily’s head.
They were in their own time bubble in felt like. The world around them moving at light speed, photographers rushing to take photos, guesting moving to get a better view of what caused the commotion, and of course Miranda Priestly all but storming out of the venue.
The world may be moving fast, but they were moving in slow motion, dancing to their own rhythm, basking in the love they felt for each other.
It was then Emily realized what drove her to throw caution to the wind. It was her love for Andy and how she resented the fact she couldn’t love her openly. A self-inflicted wound that could be corrected with a simple action.
Emily pulled back slightly, “I love you.”
Andy smiled wide, “I love you too,” she mumbled as leaned down, connecting their lips in a loving but simple kiss.
The world could label her persona non grata but with Andy she was persona grata.
Nothing else mattered so long as Andy’s eyes shined every time she saw her, nothing mattered as long as Andy loved her.