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Andrea would like to think of herself as a woman of reason.
Calm, level-headed — maybe except the few occasional moments she would panic at work because Miranda is still such a force to be reckoned with and Andrea prefers not to get on her bad side — and rational, are traits Andrea would like to believe she possesses.
Which is why it is completely astounding to her that she could feel discomfort rising from her stomach at the sight before her in the charity gala dinner; a beautiful, blonde woman engaging in a conversation with Emily, her Emily, only that the woman is throwing her head back in laughter as her hand reaches out to touch Emily’s arm. Twice. In a span of less than three minutes! Not that she counted but…
The crease on Andrea’s forehead deepens as she tries to grapple with this foreign feeling she doesn’t quite recognise rising within her; or rather, it has been a while since she truly felt this sort of emotion, and it doesn’t take her that long to recognise what it is. Not when that tall, blonde woman had suddenly leaned in too closely to whisper something in Emily’s ear, and goodness gracious why is Emily mirroring the blonde by touching her arm and whispering something back to her?
Andrea tries her best not to care, for god’s sake, they are women in their forties and this isn’t even their first relationship. There is no need to feel threatened or—
“Someone’s jealous,”
Andrea nearly jumps out of her high heels, completely taken aback by the sudden appearance of Nigel beside her. He isn’t looking at her, rather, he is looking straight ahead where Emily is, and Andrea starts to groan. “Nigel, I am not—”
“Tsk,” Nigel interrupts briskly. “It’s all over your face, darling. She’s right about you when she said you cannot hide an emotion ever.”
Andrea knows it is futile to protest against Nigel of all people, someone who has known her for two decades, so she doesn’t. Instead, she grumbles beneath her breath, “Why is she so touchy and standing so close to Emily?”
“Emily doesn’t seem to mind,” Nigel shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes twinkling with slight mischief, as if trying to rile Andrea further.
And poor Andy takes the bait easily, now sulking, “She should mind. Her girlfriend is just a few feet away from her!”
“Maybe she doesn’t even realise,” He supplies thoughtfully, finally turning to look at Andrea. “that you’re currently in this state.”
“I’m not in a—” Andrea starts, then dismisses her own sentence with a wave of her hand. “Do you think I should go up to them?”
Nigel looks at her as though she’s grown two heads, his expression incredulous. “Andy, Andy, Andy,” The way he repeats her name suggests he is judging her, and Andrea feels her cheeks blushing. “I will not partake in this quest of yours to annoy Emily. You know her better than I do, no?”
That’s true, in a way. Andrea knows that if she is to approach Emily now while she is talking to someone who could actually just be a client or a potential donor, the latter probably wouldn’t be too pleased. Especially if the reason for her approach is as petty as jealousy that someone is simply talking — flirting, Andrea is sure, flirting — with her.
So Andrea waits it out as patiently as she could, her grip on her glass of champagne so strong she is almost convinced she might break it. Nigel seems amused seeing her like that, but excuses himself quickly as soon as the blonde woman walks away, and Andrea jumps forward eagerly towards Emily.
Even though Andrea is still composed, her hurried and inelegant approach alarms the redhead a little. “Why are you waddling so clumsily towards me?”
Andrea makes sure no one is close enough to eavesdrop before she hisses into Emily’s ear, “She was flirting with you!”
Emily scrunches her eyebrows together for a split second, as if in disbelief that she had just heard that. She isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or roll her eyes or both. “Everyone flirts with me. At least for this event.”
Andrea groans. “That’s not really helping the case, you know.”
Emily sips her champagne slowly, as if studying her. Something clicks in her mind and she smirks just slightly. “Oh, I see what’s happening.”
There’s no use denying something Andrea knows to be true, so she leans forward to whisper again, “She even touched your back! What was that for?”
“Andy, she’s Italian,” Emily says pointblank, as if self-explanatory. “She was just being friendly. And…in case you have forgotten, this is a charity event of which I am the organiser, so…”
“Still,” Andrea groans, “I know you’re probably judging me but rest assured I do not take pleasure in feeling this way. In fact, I’ve not felt like this in years, Em.”
Emily understands what she is trying to say, and her expression softens into that of warmth. She takes a step closer to her, so close that Andrea could smell the waft of her Chanel perfume in the air, “Andrea. I am dating you. Why on earth would I care about some overdressed socialite named Gianna?”
Andrea grumbles again; it is quite unlike her to behave this way, so even Emily is amused discovering a side of her that she didn’t know existed. “Jealousy is ridiculous, anyway. So silly. I find being possessive rather…unattractive.”
It is Andrea’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Mostly in disbelief. “Really? You think that?”
“Mmhm,” Emily hums, angling her body away so that she is giving faux smiles at guests who are walking past her and smiling at her, “I for one would never be jealous,”
Andrea finds that hard to believe, so she narrows her eyes and says, “You’ve never been jealous in your entire life?”
Emily waves at a guest politely and answers Andrea without looking at her. “Never.”
Andrea does not believe her. She just wishes there's a way to prove it, but before she could devise any plans for that, Andrea sees the blonde woman from earlier — Gianna or whatever — approaching them again. The woman smiles politely at Andrea as she goes to stand beside Emily, wanting to resume their conversation from earlier.
Andrea has half a mind to say something when Emily touches her arm and tells the blonde, “Gianna, I’d like to introduce you to Andrea Sachs. She’s a features editor at Runway.”
“Ah, Andrea! Yes, I have heard so much about you.” Gianna juts a hand out to which Andrea receives in a polite handshake. “Everyone has been talking about you since you published that book about Miranda Priestly. How ever did you survive her for this long? You must be brilliant, no doubt, and remarkably beautiful, too.”
“Oh,” Her cheeks start to colour at the praise. “I doubt my looks had anything to do with getting Miranda’s gratification. Although, she really isn’t all that bad once you get to know her.”
Gianna is quick to ask, “Will she be attending this event tonight? I’d love to meet her, if given the chance.”
Emily’s smile remains as Andrea answers with a slight shake of her head, “She would have loved to come, but unfortunately she’s not in town this weekend.”
Gianna nods, a little disappointed, “Ah, so you are the Runway representative for tonight?”
“That would be Nigel Kipling over there,” Emily interrupts gently, gesturing at Nigel talking to another guest by the pastry table. Andrea nods in agreement, and thinking that that was the end of Emily’s sentence, starts to say, “He’s our—”
But Emily places a hand at the small of Andrea’s back before saying, “Andrea is here in the capacity of my partner,”
The way she said it calmly, the tone of a statement that showed no hesitation, makes Andrea gape at her slightly. It’s not like it is an industry secret, their relationship. Most people around them already knew anyway, even Miranda herself, partially because they never felt the need to hide it. Still, Andrea beams at Emily, hearing the redhead say that to a potential donor in her event sends butterflies scurrying into her stomach.
“Oh, caspita!” The blonde seems a little taken aback, but schools her features in a second. Guess she didn’t do her research on Emily that well, Andrea thinks as she tries to fight the wide grin from spreading on her face, if her first reaction to finding out had been an oh, wow. “You two make such a beautiful couple, I must say.”
“Thank you,” Emily replies, still smiling as she glances at the woman beside her. “I’m incredibly lucky to have Andrea by my side.”
“And I will always be so proud of everything Emily has achieved,” Andrea adds, still holding onto her gaze — and it is probably the gooey way they are looking at each other, as if forgetting the world around them, that makes Gianna feel a little uncomfortable, as if she is intruding. She excuses herself briskly and Emily turns to face Andrea again.
“Well, Andy, I hope you are happy,” She tells her plainly, but clearly in jest and without any malice. “you probably just cost me a five figure donation to the charity.”
It should make her feel sorry, and Andrea does, a little, but she loops an arm around Emily’s and grins at her girlfriend. They start to walk away from the spot, “You know, I blame you for planting that thought in my head.”
Emily raises an eyebrow, unsure of what she means. “What thought?”
Andrea gives her a sheepish look. “Serena.”
“Serena?” Emily frowns, then understands one second after. “Oh. You mean that Serena.”
“Gianna is tall, blonde and beautiful.” Andrea folds each finger when she lists those three things. “You may have a type with girls, I would not know.”
Emily rolls her eyes, shoving her arm into her ribs. “Don’t be silly. I do not have a type!” She scoffs, “You are not blonde.”
“That’s because I’m an exception.”
“No,” Emily corrects, “you are the exception.”
Andrea is touched to hear that, and her expression melts into that of appreciation. “If there aren’t a hundred people in this hall, I would have kissed you for saying that.”
“Ugh, don’t,” Emily warns, putting a finger up, “you will ruin my lipstick and my makeup, and I cannot afford a washroom break.”
Andrea simply grins, saying nothing to that. She can always kiss her later anyway, at home, when the kids are asleep.
There’s just something funny about the universe leading Andrea to this amusing situation in a bar three weeks after the gala dinner. It was as though the universe had heard Emily‘s arrogance and decided to intervene for Andrea’s sake — because Emily is sitting beside her in the bar stool looking potentially murderous, and the reason for that is standing beside Andrea’s other side.
“So you work in publishing as a Features’ Editor?” The man says smoothly, calling for a refill of Andrea’s wine despite her insisting he need not do something of that sort.
The man has apparently mistaken Andrea’s politeness for interest, when Andrea only started talking to him a moment ago because Emily had gone to the washroom and he had slid into the space beside her to randomly strike a conversation with her. He had asked a few questions and she had answered, and Andrea did not expect the interaction to snowball into a weak flirtatious attempt to pursue something with her.
“Yes, but—” She tries to explain to the man that she isn’t interested, not when her girlfriend has returned from the washroom and has been silently observing the interaction beside her.
“That’s really interesting, considering the magazine industry isn’t thriving that much anymore these days.” The man continues obliviously, “You must be really passionate in writing, which honestly doesn’t surprise me, because you do come off as an intelligent woman.”
Andrea nearly snorts, and from the corner of her eye, catches Emily’s expression which had gone frighteningly blank. Uh oh. She knows the look and that clearly isn’t a good sign.
“Uh, thank you?” Andrea replies slowly, rather carefully. She steals another glance at the redhead, curious as to what she is thinking given how eerily quiet she is.
If Andrea could read her mind, she would know that Emily is filled with a myriad of emotions that she is trying to grapple with at that very moment. There is a mix of confusion, annoyance and frustration in her stomach, and her heart is pounding erratically in a way that Emily refuses to understand. Almost as if she is jea—
Good grief, absolutely not! Emily shakes her head and snaps herself from her reverie the same time the man leans against the table slightly and gives Andrea a lopsided smile that she cringes in reflex. “Say, I was wondering if I could get your number? Maybe we can go for dinner together sometime, or maybe tonight—”
Andrea opens her mouth with every intention to reject him. But Emily beats her to it, unable to hold it in anymore.
With a laugh.
From an outsider’s point of view, someone who has no idea who Emily is as a person, they would have discerned the laugh as cordial, usually in response to something said in jest, or if something is funny. But Andrea knows Emily well enough to interpret the laugh as something else entirely — it is a sound that is sharp enough to cut a glass, if Andrea is to put a description to it.
The man, poor guy, really, blinks in surprise at the sudden interruption. “Sorry, did I say something funny?”
“You cannot,” Emily looks at the man dead in the eyes and states sharply, “get her number. She’s taken.”
Andrea stares, eyes widening ever so slightly in pure surprise. Because the expression Emily has on her face, and the tone of her voice, it’s not something that she would usually — oh. Ohhh. It hits Andrea so fast that she couldn’t prevent her expression from changing into that of bemusement, which Emily clearly ignores as she continues to stare down the man.
The still rather oblivious guy looks between them with a raised eyebrow. “Oh. Taken as in you two are…? I didn’t realise—”
“Well,” Emily interrupts cooly, “clearly.”
Andrea opens her mouth for the briefest of second, as if wanting to stop Emily from saying anything more, but her inner voice stops her almost immediately, as if asking her not to interrupt a potential historical moment that Emily Charlton had so confidently claimed she never would feel.
Now she is intrigued. Andrea shuts her mouth immediately.
“It’s honestly so fascinating,” Emily continues, setting her glass of wine down carefully on the counter top, “the confidence that men possess. The sheer audacity. You see a woman drinking with another woman and immediately assume she is readily available for you to court.”
It’s really the tone — all calm and composed yet with that edge akin to being passive aggressive — that Emily uses, that gets to both Andrea and the man, who is starting to look flustered. “Look, I didn’t think—”
“No, of course not,” Emily chuckles humourlessly. “Men rarely do. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right when I say your species tends to always be so self-absorbed…”
Andrea presses her lips together violently to stop herself from bursting into laughter. She sees how the man is struggling to say something, and is deciding whether or not to retort something in response to what Emily had said.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Andrea simply says, in the kindest tone she could muster. “She’s British. And very clever. You won’t win against her, I'm afraid.”
The man takes her advice and mumbles a halfhearted apology before scrambling from the bar in a split second, escaping so quickly he nearly collides into a server. Andrea turns to Emily the second he is out of sight, a smile already forming on her lips. She doesn’t say anything just yet, waiting to see if Emily would, first — but instead, she simply picks up her glass of wine to take a slow sip, addressing none of what had just happened.
“So…” Andrea finally breaks the silence in the air, “that was something,”
Emily doesn’t meet her gaze. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Em, please,” Andrea lets out a laugh, turning her entire body to face Emily. “you were ready to skin that man alive!”
“Not sure if you were present earlier, but he was rather irritating,”
“All he did was ask for my number.”
“Which is horrifying behaviour. So tactless, men.”
Andrea leans back, delight spreading across her chest as she starts to grin. “Ohh, I see what is happening.” She mimics the same words Emily had used on her three weeks ago.
And Emily narrows her eyes immediately, already knowing what she is about to say. “Do not even,” She warns, but it is a futile attempt because the brunette continues in a sing-song voice of delight,
“You, Emily Charlton, were jealous!”
“I was not!” Immediate denial, says Emily hotly. But the way her cheeks are flushed tells Andrea a different story. The brunette laughs helplessly, one hand reaching out to clasp Emily’s arm. “Oh my god, Emily…after all that speech about never being jealous your entire life—”
Emily glares at her. Really glares at her, clearly offended by the entire situation. “I simply dislike watching strangers flirt with my girlfriend right in front of me!”
Andrea’s heart does this little stupid flip that it usually does whenever she finds Emily adorable. “Wasn’t that my exact reaction with that blonde woman that day? You said being jealous is silly, oh what else did you say—”
“I hate you,” Emily mutters, wanting the earth to open up and just swallow her whole. She starts to get up from the stool, but is pulled back by Andrea immediately.
“No, no, come back here.” She is laughing, warm and uncontrollably, hands still holding onto Emily “We need to discuss your serious hypocrisy problem.”
Emily crosses her arms in annoyance. “There is no hypocrisy, Andrea, I can assure you that.”
“Says the woman that being possessive is rather unattractive.” Andrea gives her a gentle poke, to which the redhead squirms with a huff.
“That’s before I had to witness a heinous act of you being hit on by a man named Chad,”
Andrea laughs. “I don’t think he introduced his name,”
“Oh bollocks, he is clearly and spiritually a Chad. Brad works, too.”
Andrea nearly chokes in laughter; trust Emily for being funny without any intention to be. Emily glares at her harder, and Andrea recomposes herself and scoots closer to her, as much as she could to reduce the distance between them. “You know,” She starts, nudging their knees together. “I think I kinda liked that.”
Emily looks at her suspiciously and asks nearly exasperatedly, “Liked what?”
“You getting jealous.”
Emily groans immediately, one hand covering her face. “Andrea, please do not encourage me. That was both horrifying and embarrassing.”
“Nah,” Andrea states, “you were kinda hot, honestly.”
The statement elicits a chortle from Emily before she could even stop herself, and Andrea stares at her in great fondness. “There she is,” She murmurs fondly, just as Emily intertwines their fingers together. There is silence for a moment, with just the two of them staring into each other’s eyes for a good minute; Andrea realising the tiny inhale as Emily’s composure cracks slightly, the flicker in her eyes before she starts again.
“For the record, I really do not usually get jealous.” She clarifies with a shrug, “But I suppose I can admit that you’ve been the one and only exception to many new things I am learning about myself.”
Hearing that makes her breath catch in her throat, and Andrea realises she doesn’t care if there are people surrounding them. She leans forward to slant her lips against Emily’s. The latter squeaks in surprise, but reciprocates her kiss anyway, warm hand on the side of her neck. It starts off slowly, with a kind of softness they are both familiar with — but Andrea kisses her harder, with want and passion, hearing the sound Emily lets out against her lips; the very few times Andrea could see her unravel is when she kisses her. Andrea feels the way Emily caresses a thumb across her jaw, feels the way she deepens the kiss without even caring that they are in a bar. And Andrea knows, from the way Emily is kissing her, as though there is a quiet declaration that she is trying to tell the world;
Mine.
Their heartbeats drum steadily even in the crowded room, and when they pull apart, Emily is breathless, her lipstick completely ruined. Andrea looks absurdly proud of herself as she reaches forward to tuck strays of wayward hair behind Emily’s ears.
“Well.” Emily clears her throat. “That was slightly inappropriate for a public setting.”
“At least no men will approach us now,” She winks at her teasingly.
Emily groans. “If another person asks for your number in front of me again, I reserve the right to act significantly worse.”
Andrea nods. “Duly noted,”
“And,” Emily wags a finger in her direction firmly, “you are absolutely never allowed to mention this conversation ever again.”
She simply laughs. “I am absolutely going to mention it again.”
“Andy!”
Andrea grins cheekily and leans forward again, brushing another soft kiss against the corner of Emily’s mouth this time. Emily doesn’t acknowledge it, burying her face into her wineglass. But Andrea sees the way she had melted instantly at the love declaration.
Which, honestly, is one of her favourite things in the world.