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The hotel room was unbearably warm.
Physically it was probably freezing by normal human standards because Emily had immediately lowered the thermostat upon arrival three days ago and never adjusted it afterward. But emotionally it was catastrophically warm.
Too many thoughts. Too much wine at dinner. Too much Andrea Sachs in every corner of her brain. Unbearably warm.
Emily stood in the middle of the suite still wearing her evening clothes while Rome glowed softly outside the tall windows beyond gauzy cream curtains. Somewhere far below, traffic murmured through wet Roman streets while the city itself shimmered gold against the night.
She hated this place. Or more realistically, she loved this place because everything beautiful here reminded her of Andrea. Again, unbearable.
Emily yanked her earrings off with significantly more violence than necessary and dropped them onto the vanity table beside the bathroom.
The gala dinner had lasted forever. Miranda had been impossible. Nigel had spent approximately forty consecutive minutes trying to gently interrogate Emily about her emotional wellbeing with the subtlety of a licensed therapist trapped inside a fashion creative director’s body.
And so now Emily was exhausted. Her bones themselves felt emotionally overworked. Maybe a shower would help. Or alcohol. Or medically induced unconsciousness. Probably all three.
She moved toward the bathroom while unbuttoning the cuffs of her blouse slowly, her mind replaying the phone call against her will for perhaps the thousandth time since yesterday.
Baby, please talk to me.
God. Emily shut her eyes briefly.
Humiliating. Completely humiliating. She’d cried publicly beside a fountain like some emotionally unstable divorcée and then Andrea had called her baby before telecommunications personally intervened to preserve what remained of her dignity. She wanted to die. Preferably stylishly.
Her blouse slipped from one shoulder while she crossed toward the bathroom mirror. Mascara still faintly shadowed beneath her eyes despite her earlier attempt to fix it before dinner. Christ.
Then just as Emily reached for the sink, BANG BANG BANG.
She jumped violently. “What the fuck—”
Another knock echoed through the suite.
Emily frowned immediately, pulse already irritated. Probably Nigel. He’d come to emotionally harass her again. Or Miranda needed another schedule revision at eleven-thirty at night because apparently tyranny never slept.
“For God’s sake,” Emily muttered.
She crossed the suite absentmindedly still half-undressed, not bothering properly fixing the open collar of her blouse before unlocking the door and opening it.
“Honestly, Nigel, if this is about my psychological wellbeing again, I swear to God—”
The rest of the sentence died instantly. And then she immediately froze on the spot because hello what.
Everything inside her body stopped all at once. Standing there in the hallway like a lost little puppy, was Andrea Sachs. Hair slightly messy from travel. Coat wrinkled. Overnight bag hanging from one shoulder. Looking exhausted enough to physically collapse and somehow still painfully beautiful beneath the soft hotel lighting.
For one suspended impossible second Emily genuinely thought she might be hallucinating. Because there was absolutely no conceivable reason Andrea should be standing outside her hotel room in Rome.
Neither of them spoke.
Andy looked equally breathless suddenly now that the door had actually opened. Like maybe she’d reached this point entirely on momentum and panic and had only just now realized she’d successfully crossed an ocean to emotionally ambush someone in Italy.
Emily stared at her blankly. This was not happening. Her brain attempted several explanations rapidly. Either this was some exhaustion hallucination her subconsciousness was playing on her, or it was some stress-induced psychosis, or this was Andrea’s ghost haunting her, or, this was divine punishment for her ongoing one-sided unresolved yearning.
Anyway, finally Emily managed faintly, “…What.”
Andy swallowed once. “Hi.”
Emily continued staring.
Andy lifted one shoulder helplessly. “So. Funny story.”
Emily blinked slowly. “Andrea.”
“Yeah.”
“…What are you doing here?”
Andy looked at her like the answer should’ve been obvious. “I got worried.”
Emily’s brain visibly stalled.
“You were crying,” Andy said quickly, words tumbling over each other from lingering panic and adrenaline. “Then the call dropped and I couldn’t reach you and you sounded really upset and I didn’t know where you were and—”
Emily stared at her in complete disbelief.
Andy gestured vaguely behind herself toward all of Europe. “So I flew here.”
Emily’s mouth actually parted slightly. “…You what.”
“Not the point,” Andy said immediately. “Em, we need to talk.”
Dread hit Emily instantly like ice water directly through the spine. Oh no. No no no.
She stared at Andy with growing horror. This was catastrophic, even though she knew this moment would eventually arrive, that they actually had to have the conversation. The real one. The terrifying one Emily had spent days avoiding through emotional repression, international travel, and psychological warfare against herself.
Emily’s pulse began climbing rapidly. Oh my God.
Andy looked concerned immediately. “Hey—”
“Oh my God,” Emily repeated quietly.
“Em—”
“Oh my God.”
Panic arrived all at once. She could not do this. Not here. Not now. Not while standing half-undressed in a Roman hotel hallway after crying over this very woman for three consecutive days.
Andy frowned slightly. “Why do you look terrified?”
“Because you are standing outside my room in Rome!”
“Right, but—”
A nearby door suddenly swung open.
An older man wearing a silk robe appeared halfway into the corridor looking deeply furious and disturbed. “¡Basta ya!” he snapped sharply. “La gente está durmiendo!”
Both of them froze. Andy blinked. Emily stared.
The man gestured aggressively between them with one hand. “¿Es una discusión o una telenovela?”
Andy glanced sideways toward Emily helplessly. “…I think he’s mad at us.”
“No, really?” Emily hissed.
The man muttered several additional things in extremely annoyed Spanish before slamming his door dramatically shut again.
Silence.
Then Andy looked back at Emily. Emily looked back at Andy. And both simultaneously realized they were in the middle of an emotionally charged transatlantic confrontation in a luxury hotel corridor at nearly midnight.
“…Right,” Emily said abruptly.
Andy nodded immediately. “Right.”
“Fine. Come in.”
Andy visibly relaxed.
Then Emily immediately panicked again.“Actually no.”
Andy stopped halfway moving.
Emily pointed vaguely at her. “Don’t come in.”
Andy blinked. “What?”
“I mean, not because,” Emily exhaled sharply. “Just wait.”
“Okay…”
Emily glanced back toward the room behind her. The unmade bed. Her shoes kicked off carelessly near the sofa. Her blouse half-unbuttoned. Her entire emotional state currently smeared visibly across every surface like evidence.
Absolutely not. She could not have this conversation in here. The intimacy of it suddenly felt unbearable. She would not survive being so emotionally honest and revealing in such an enclosed space. If Andrea stepped inside that room right now Emily thought she might either burst into tears again or throw herself out the window. Choose your own poison at this point.
So instead she gestured briskly toward the door. “Put your things inside.”
Andy hesitated. “Emily—”
“Just put the bag down, Andrea.”
“Okay,” Andy said gently.
Emily stepped aside stiffly while Andy crossed into the room carrying her overnight bag. She moved slowly, carefully, like she sensed Emily might bolt at any second. Which, by the way, remained possible. Technically.
Andy set the bag near the armchair by the entrance before straightening again.
“Okay,” Emily decided firmly. “We’re going outside.”
Andy looked startled. “Outside outside?”
“Yes.”
“It’s midnight.”
“I’m aware of time, Andrea.”
Andy nodded slowly. “…Okay.”
Emily rubbed one hand briefly against her forehead trying desperately to regain some semblance of composure. “Just let me change first.”
Andy immediately looked away with almost comical speed. “Right. Yes. Obviously.”
The reaction should not have affected Emily as much as it did. Unfortunately it did. God.
“Wait here,” Emily muttered.
Then she disappeared back into the room before Andy could say anything else.
The second the door shut behind her, Emily pressed both hands hard against her face. Andrea was in Rome. Andrea flew across the Atlantic because Emily cried. And Andrea was standing outside her hotel room right now looking exhausted and worried and unbearably earnest.
This was a disaster.
-
Ten minutes later they were walking through Rome together. Emily still wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t some elaborate stress hallucination.
The city glowed around them soft and golden beneath damp February night air while distant traffic hummed through narrow streets lined with shuttered cafés and warm pools of lamplight.
Emily walked quickly beside Andy with her coat wrapped tightly around herself and her pulse still behaving erratically. Beside her, Andy shoved both hands into the pockets of her coat against the cold.
For a while neither of them spoke because neither of them quite knew how to begin.
So instead Andy asked carefully, “How’s Rome?”
Emily stared ahead. “Fine.”
Andy nodded once. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Another few steps.
“What have you been doing?”
“Working.”
“Right.”
“And avoiding emotional stability apparently.”
Andy glanced sideways toward her immediately at that. Emily regretted the sentence instantly. God she was tired.
They turned down another narrow street where rain still shimmered faintly across old cobblestones beneath the lights.
“How did you manage to find me anyway?”
Andy spoke again after a moment. “Georgia emailed me the details of your trip.”
Emily stopped walking. “You spoke to Georgia?”
“And Serena.”
Emily looked physically horrified. “Oh my God.”
Andy winced slightly. “Yeah, that was sort of everyone’s reaction.”
“You involved my coworkers in this?”
“You vanished emotionally on another continent!”
Emily opened her mouth. Closed it again, while heat crept unwillingly up her neck.
Andy watched her with those impossibly soft eyes of hers. “You really scared me.”
The sincerity of it landed badly inside Emily’s chest. She looked away quickly toward the street ahead. And unfortunately that was exactly when her brain decided to replay the café window again. Andrea leaning close toward the man. The flowers. The kiss-not-kiss.
God. The hurt hit so suddenly Emily nearly lost composure right there on the sidewalk. She swallowed hard immediately. Weak. Pathetic. Ridiculous.
Andy noticed anyway of course because she noticed everything impossible at the worst possible moments.
“Hey,” Andy said quietly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Emily.”
“I’m fine.”
A lie so obvious it practically echoed.
Emily kept walking faster now, arms folded tightly across herself while emotion pressed hot and humiliating behind her ribs all over again.
Because Andrea had crossed an ocean for her. And if Andrea cared this much, then what the hell had Emily seen that day in Manhattan?
-
By the time they reached Piazza Fontanella Borghese, the louder traffic noises faded into distant murmurs while the narrow streets around them glowed warm beneath old amber streetlights reflected against damp stone.
The fountain sat ahead exactly where Emily remembered it. The goddamn Fontana dell’Amore.
Water spilled gently through the marble basin beneath the night while couples lingered nearby beneath umbrellas and low conversation and impossible Roman romance.
Emily immediately wanted to turn around. Of course Andrea had unknowingly walked her directly back to the scene of her emotional collapse. Cruel.
Andy slowed slightly beside her noticing the shift instantly. “Em?”
Emily stared at the fountain. The same bench. The same water. The same awful ache still somehow lingering beneath her ribs even now.
And before she could stop herself, before pride or composure or common sense could intervene, the words just escaped. “…That’s where I called you.”
Andy blinked softly. “What?”
Emily gestured vaguely toward the fountain without looking at her. “Yesterday.”
Andy’s expression changed immediately.
“The call,” Emily clarified quietly. “I was there.”
For one second neither of them moved. Then Andy looked toward the fountain too. Understanding settled slowly across her face while the memory clearly replayed behind her eyes as well. It was almost as if she could hear Emily crying in that phone call again.
Andy turned back toward her carefully. “Emily…”
Emily folded her arms tightly across herself. Defensive instinct. Automatic. “Please don’t make this into some dramatic thing.”
“You cried beside a fountain called Fontana dell’Amore. Aww.”
Emily shut her eyes briefly. “I know. Trust me. I’m aware.”
Andy’s mouth twitched despite herself.
Emily looked offended immediately. “Do not laugh at me.”
“I’m not,” Andy said quickly.
“You’re smiling.”
“You’re kind of adorable right now.”
Emily stared at her in genuine betrayal. “I have never been less adorable in my life.”
Andy looked like she strongly disagreed with that assessment. Unfortunately Emily noticed. God. She turned away quickly toward the fountain again, shoulders tense beneath her coat while emotion pressed heavily inside her chest all over again.
The water burbled softly beside them.
Andy asked carefully, “Why were you crying?”
Emily swallowed hard immediately. See, she should’ve seen this coming. The actual conversation. The one Nigel had practically bullied her toward emotionally for days now. Honesty. What a horrible concept.
Emily looked away immediately toward the fountain while panic fluttered sharp and restless beneath her ribs. Her fingers twisted unconsciously against the sleeves of her coat. Don’t do this. Don’t say it. You’ll sound insane.
And yet Nigel’s voice returned unhelpfully inside her head. “This sounds remarkably like jealousy and remarkably unlike betrayal.”
Emily looked down at the wet cobblestones beneath her boots while her fingers twisted anxiously together inside her sleeves.
“I…” She stopped.
Andy waited patiently.
Emily laughed once under her breath. Small. Miserable. “God, this is ridiculous.”
“Em—”
“I tried forgetting you.”
The confession arrived abruptly between them. Andy went still.
Emily kept staring at the ground because looking directly at Andrea during this conversation would almost certainly kill her instantly.
“I really tried,” she admitted shakily. “I thought if I ignored you long enough maybe whatever this is would just…” She gestured helplessly. “…die eventually.”
Emily kept talking quickly before courage disappeared entirely.
“I tried all day yesterday. Museums, work, Rome, ridiculously attractive Italian men. Hoping at least something would work.” Her voice shook faintly despite her efforts.
Andy’s face softened immediately. Emily hated it.
“But they didn’t,” she continued before she lost courage completely. “It just got worse.”
The fountain rushed softly beside them. Rome glowed gold around them.
And Emily finally said the thing she’d spent days trying not to admit even to herself. “I kept seeing you everywhere.”
Andy inhaled quietly.
“Every stupid thing I saw. In cafés. In museums. In every bloody couple walking down the street holding hands.” Emily laughed weakly again, tears already threatening now despite her best efforts. “I saw a woman reading on the Spanish Steps and nearly started crying because she had a laugh like yours.”
Andy looked visibly heartbroken now.
Emily pressed forward anyway because stopping would be worse. “I tried distracting myself. I tried drinking. I tried working. I tried pretending I didn’t care.” Her voice cracked slightly. “And none of it worked because every single thing here kept reminding me of you.”
A tear finally slipped free despite her efforts. Emily wiped it away immediately, furious. “I missed you,” she admitted quietly.
Andy’s expression shattered a little.
Emily looked away sharply toward the fountain before she could see too much of it. “I missed you so fucking much,” she whispered. “And I felt stupid for it. And lonely. And tired.” Another tear slid down her face now. “And then I called you and completely humiliated myself in front of the person I least wanted to see me break apart.”
“Emily—”
“And then the line cut out!” she continued, visibly unraveling now. “Which felt so unfair!”
Andy let out the tiniest helpless breath that sounded dangerously close to fondness.
Emily looked furious immediately. “This is not funny.”
“It’s not,” Andy promised softly. Unfortunately her eyes were still warm in that unbearable way.
Emily folded further inward around herself. “I just,” Her voice cracked again. “God. I don’t know.”
Andy stared at her for a long moment beneath the Roman lights, before finally asking, “Why were you trying to forget me?”
Emily’s stomach twisted immediately. Good lord she should be in bed right now, not doing whatever this was. She rubbed one hand hard across her forehead. “Right. Okay. Wonderful. Excellent.”
Andy frowned slightly. “Em?”
Emily laughed once weakly. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”
“I flew to Rome because you cried, I think we’re slightly passed insane.”
Fair point unfortunately.
Emily inhaled shakily. Tears stung instantly behind her eyes all over again. Oh for God’s sake. Finally she looked at Andy.
“I saw you with him.”
Andy blinked. “Who?”
“That man. At lunch.”
“…What man?”
“The mildly attractive one!”
Andy looked deeply confused now.
Emily stared at her in disbelief. “The blonde one?”
Realization suddenly flickered across Andy’s face.
“…Christian?”
“Yes, whatever,” Emily said sharply. “The man you were apparently seducing through windows like a cologne advertisement.”
Andy’s eyebrows shot upward. “What?”
Emily could physically feel herself combusting from humiliation now but momentum carried her onward anyway. Gotta finish what she started.
So she stared hard toward the fountain while the words tumbled out strained and uneven now. “You were with him and there were flowers and laughing and then you leaned toward him and it looked like you kissed him and—”
Her voice cracked abruptly. God. Emily shut her eyes hard.
Andy made a tiny startled sound. “Oh my God.”
“And I thought,” Emily’s voice wobbled horribly now. “I thought maybe I’d imagined everything between us.”
Andy stared at her.
Emily pressed her lips together hard trying not to cry again and failing spectacularly. “I know how pathetic that sounds,” she muttered.
“It doesn’t.”
“It absolutely does.”
“It really doesn’t.”
Emily shook her head miserably. “You gave me those flowers and I thought they meant something and then suddenly he had sunflowers too and—”
“Wait.” Andy looked genuinely alarmed now. “Em, no.”
Tears spilled fully down Emily’s face at that point because apparently dignity had officially abandoned her permanently somewhere over the Mediterranean. “I just felt so stupid,” she whispered brokenly. “Because technically we weren’t even together and I had no right to feel jealous but God I was jealous and I hated myself for it and—”
“Oh, Emily.”
The tenderness in Andy’s voice nearly destroyed her completely.
Emily looked away immediately, wiping angrily at her face again. “Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Sound kind.”
Andy stepped closer carefully. “Em. Christian is not—”
“I know, logically, that it’s absurd—”
“He did me a favour. Or us, really. I owed him.”
Emily blinked. “…What?”
Andy looked halfway between horrified and astonished now that the misunderstanding had finally become visible to her. “The reservation at Felice? Christian got me that table.”
Emily stared blankly.
Andy continued quickly now. “The flowers weren’t for him. He asked me to pick them up because he didn’t have time to.”
Emily’s brain stalled completely.
“And I didn’t kiss him,” Andy added immediately, sounding horrified now. “Jesus Christ, Em.”
Emily stared at her speechlessly.
Andy ran one hand back through her hair. “He was trying to get me to tell him who my mystery date was.”
Emily’s heart stopped.
Andy looked at her softly now. “And I told him he wasn’t bloody likely getting that information.”
Oh. OH. Guess who was apparently a master at jumping to conclusions? Emily Charlton.
Emily physically covered her face with both hands. “Oh my God.”
She suddenly wanted the fountain to consume her whole. All of this. Rome. Crying. International emotional warfare. Because of one stupid, stupid misunderstanding. Heat crawled violently into her face.
“…I’m going to throw myself into the water,” she informed the fountain weakly.
Andy’s expression melted immediately into helpless affection, laughing softly despite herself. “Oh, Em.”
Emily looked scandalized. “Andrea!”
“You thought I was cheating on you before we were even technically together.”
“You were very suspicious near that window!”
Andy stepped closer again, gentler this time. “Emily.”
Emily slowly lowered her hands.
Andy looked exhausted. Tender. Completely sincere beneath the Roman lights.
“There has never been anyone else,” she said quietly.
And God. Emily’s face crumpled instantly as fresh tears spilled over again before she could stop them.
“Oh no,” Andy said immediately, alarmed. “Wait, that was supposed to help.”
“It did,” Emily choked out miserably.
Andy looked deeply unconvinced. “You’re crying harder.”
“I know!” Emily snapped tearfully. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m something fragile.”
Andy softened impossibly somehow. “You are a little fragile right now.”
Emily gave her a murderous look through tears. “I hate you.”
Andy smiled faintly. “No you don’t.”
And the horrible thing was that she really, really didn’t. How could she ever hate Andrea after all this? That would just be mean and heartless.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The fountain burbled softly beside them while Rome glowed soft and gold beyond the square, and Emily stood there beneath the streetlights crying quietly from sheer exhausted relief while Andy looked at her like someone trying to hold together an entire collapsing universe with bare hands.
Then, softly at first, rain began to fall. Tiny cold droplets scattered across the piazza. Darkening cobblestones. Catching in Emily’s hair and along the shoulders of Andy’s coat.
Neither of them moved.
Around them, nearby tourists immediately hurried toward awnings and café shelters with little startled laughs. Chairs scraped. Someone cursed softly in Italian while gathering shopping bags.
Within seconds both Emily and Andy were soaked through completely. Still neither of them moved.
Emily barely even noticed the rain at first because Andy was still looking at her with that same soft devastated expression and that alone felt dangerous enough already. Water ran down Andy’s hair and across her cheeks while her coat darkened rapidly beneath the storm.
“Was that why?” Andy asked over the rain.
Emily blinked. “What?”
“You ignored my calls.” Andy stepped slightly closer so she could be heard properly above the downpour. “Was it because you thought I was with Christian?”
The vulnerability in the question broke the last thin layer of restraint Emily still possessed.
“Yes!” she burst out.
The word echoed sharply through the rain. Andy startled slightly.
“Yes, Andrea, I was jealous!” Emily cried. “Jesus Christ.”
Rainwater streaked down her face mixing hopelessly with tears now.
“I love you!”
The confession tore out of her like something overdue and unstoppable.
Andy went completely still.
Emily laughed once brokenly, throwing both hands upward helplessly while rain poured over them in sheets. “I thought we established this already when I accidentally mailed you that bloody love letter!”
Andy stared at her speechless.
“And then after the dinner,” Emily continued shakily, “when we said this wasn’t casual and, and you gave me flowers and stayed and all those ridiculous lovely things—”
She looked down briefly because suddenly she felt unbearably exposed standing here in the middle of Rome confessing herself open beneath a storm.
Andy’s expression crumpled immediately. Emily wrapped her arms tighter around herself against the cold and humiliation and heartbreak still lingering bruised inside her chest.
“And then I saw you with him,” she continued shakily, voice rising over the storm now because she physically could not seem to stop anymore, “and I thought maybe I’d imagined everything between us—”
“No—”
“And maybe what happened at dinner wasn’t real after all!”
“Em—”
“Maybe this whole thing mattered more to me than it did to you.”
“Emily—”
“Maybe I was the only one falling in love. And maybe I was just pathetic and one-sided and stupid enough to think—”
“No.” Andy moved closer immediately. “No, no, Em, that’s not true.”
Emily looked wrecked now. No longer that composed Runway Emily Charlton with sharp eyeliner and sharper sarcasm and impossible control over every room she entered. She was soaked through. Crying openly in the middle of Rome. Looking heartbreakingly small despite herself.
Andy’s chest physically ached at the sight. “I’m so sorry you felt that way,” she said softly.
Emily shook her head hard immediately. “I know it’s irrational—”
“It isn’t.”
“It absolutely is.”
“It isn’t,” Andy repeated firmly.
Rain hammered around them.
Emily looked down briefly, breathing unevenly while water dripped from her lashes. Then, so faintly Andy almost didn’t hear it, “…Do you love me back?”
Good God. The question hit Andy like physical pain.
Andy stepped closer again until barely any space remained between them. “Yes,” she said immediately.
Emily stared at her motionless.
“Yes,” Andy repeated louder over the rain. “I do. I love you.”
The rain intensified somehow impossibly further, forcing both of them to nearly shout now over the sound of water crashing around the piazza.
“You never said it back!” Emily cried.
God. Andy’s heart cracked clean open. Stupid, stupid Andrea. Emily had handed her love openly in lists and fancy Japanese takeaway and luxurious perfume and late-night phone calls and subtle tenderness. And Andy had crossed an ocean for her. She’d thought about Emily every day for months. She’d practically rearranged her entire emotional life around this woman. Yet foolishly, lovingly, she had never realized Emily still needed the words returned plainly.
“I didn’t know,” Andy said helplessly. Rain soaked through her sweater entirely now but she barely felt it. “Em, I swear to God, I didn’t realize.”
Emily looked wrecked.
“I thought you knew,” Andy admitted softly. “I thought staying mattered more than saying it.”
Another tear slipped down Emily’s face.
Andy shook her head immediately. “No, no, don’t, God, please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I broke your heart.”
Emily laughed shakily through tears. “You did a bit.”
That hurt enough Andy actually winced. “Emily.” her voice softening. “I have been in awe of you for so long.”
Emily looked back at her.
Andy laughed shakily once beneath the rain. “Honestly, probably from the beginning.”
“That cannot possibly be true.”
“It unfortunately is.”
Despite everything, Emily looked faintly offended by the word unfortunately.
Andy smiled weakly. “You terrified me.”
“I usually do.”
“I know.” Andy stepped another inch closer. “But then somewhere along the way it stopped being fear.”
Emily stared at her.
Andy swallowed once, gesturing weakly. “And turned into… this.”
The rain softened slightly around them now into heavy silver sheets cascading through the piazza lights.
Andy looked at her like she was trying to say something impossible correctly. “I wanted to be like you,” she admitted quietly. “I wanted you to respect me. I wanted to impress you.” Her voice turned softer still. “And then suddenly I just… wanted to be near you.”
Emily’s breath caught.
Andy laughed once under her breath. “Back at Runway I used to actively avoid being within a five-foot radius of you whenever possible.”
“That was sensible.”
“Right?” Andy smiled faintly. “And now all I want is to be close to you all the time.”
Emily looked completely undone by that. Rainwater slid slowly down her cheeks while she stared at Andy like she genuinely couldn’t process what she was hearing. “You really do?” she whispered.
Andy’s expression softened painfully. “Yes.”
Emily shut her eyes briefly. “God. I feel so stupid.”
“Hey.” Andy said, stepping fully into her space. “No.”
They stood inches apart beneath the rain. Close enough now that Emily could feel warmth radiating from Andy despite the storm. Close enough that Andy could see every tear still trembling against Emily’s lashes.
“You really love me back?” Was the small, tiny tentative question.
“Yes,” Andy said softly.
Rain rushed around them in roaring waves.
Andy smiled then despite everything. Small and warm and hopelessly fond. “Yes, Emily Charlton,” she said gently. “I love you.”
Emily just stared at her. Tear tracks glistened against rainwater on her cheeks while something fragile and astonished unfolded slowly across her face.
Andy reached up instinctively and brushed damp hair carefully back from Emily’s forehead. “Come on,” she said gently.
Emily blinked at her.
“If we were living in the Victorian era,” Andy said with quiet amusement, “they’d just document us as very, very close friends anyway.” (Andrea, you’re such a nerd.)
A startled laugh escaped Emily through her tears.
Andy’s smile widened slightly at the sound. “What’s there to fear about?”
Emily looked at her like she might fall apart all over again.
Rain thundered around them. The fountain overflowed softly beside them while Rome blurred golden and distant beyond the storm.
And then Andy leaned closer still until there was barely any space left between them at all.
“So kiss me,” she whispered against the rain.
Her eyes flicked briefly to Emily’s mouth before returning upward.
“And let us both be damned.”
And so Emily did.
God. The second their lips met, the entire world seemed to tilt violently sideways. Emily felt like she’d lost all understanding of gravity for one horrifyingly perfect moment because Andrea kissed her and suddenly her nervous system ceased functioning correctly.
She felt it everywhere. In her mouth first, warmth and softness and rainwater and Andy’s breath catching sharply against her lips like this affected her too. And then it blossomed lower, deeper, outward all at once until Emily could feel the kiss in her fingertips, her ribs, the backs of her knees, every impossible overworked corner of herself.
Oh. Oh, this was bad. Devastating. Send help.
Emily had imagined kissing Andy before. Frequently, unfortunately. Late at night. During flights. In her kitchen. In her fucking shower. But every fantasy collapsed instantly against reality because none of them, not one, had come remotely close to this.
Emily made a tiny broken sound against Andy’s mouth before she could stop herself. Humiliating.
Water soaked through their coats and hair and clothes while the fountain rushed beside them and Rome blurred gold and distant beyond the storm. Andy’s hand came up instinctively to cradle the side of her face and Emily nearly lost consciousness on the spot.
God, her lips were soft. Softer than Emily had expected somehow despite exhaustion and dry airplane air and hours spent travelling internationally for this absolute emotional catastrophe.
Rain poured over both of them in silver sheets while the fountain rushed nearby and Rome blurred gold around the edges of Emily’s vision. None of it mattered.
Andy kissed her slowly at first, carefully like she was still giving Emily room to change her mind. To which Emily responded by grabbing fistfuls of Andy’s coat and kissing her harder.
That seemed to resolve the uncertainty issue immediately. Andy made a startled sound low in her throat before kissing her back properly now, closer and deeper and with enough feeling behind it that Emily’s knees genuinely threatened mutiny.
Christ. This was Andrea Sachs. And Andrea was kissing her beneath Roman streetlights in the rain like they were starring in an aggressively heterosexual Oscar-winning romance film except thankfully much gayer. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Emily was dimly aware she was crying again. Which should have mortified her. Instead she just kissed Andy harder through it because apparently dignity no longer existed as a concept available to her.
Rainwater and tears blurred together across her cheeks while Andy held her carefully but firmly.
Emily laughed shakily against her mouth, half sob, half breathless disbelief. “God,” she whispered brokenly between kisses, “I feel so stupid.”
Andy immediately shook her head, forehead knocking lightly against Emily’s in the rain. “No.”
“Yes,” Emily insisted weakly before kissing her again anyway because apparently dignity had fully drowned somewhere around the Fountain of Love.
Rainwater dripped steadily from Andy’s hair onto Emily’s cheeks. Emily kissed her through laughter and tears and weeks of loneliness finally collapsing inward all at once. Because Andrea came to Rome for her. Andrea loved her. Andrea loved her. The thought echoed dizzy and bright through Emily’s chest.
Andy laughed quietly into the kiss, warm and startled and unbearably fond, and the sound wrecked Emily completely. God. God, she was so gone for this woman.
-
Eventually breathing became medically necessary. They pulled apart slowly, neither going very far, mouths still brushing once, then twice, before the space between them finally widened enough for air.
Emily’s chest rose sharply beneath her coat. Andy looked equally as affected, rain dripping from dark lashes while her lips remained slightly parted from kissing. The sight nearly restarted the entire situation immediately.
Instead Andy leaned forward until their foreheads touched gently beneath the rain.
For one suspended moment neither of them spoke. The fountain murmured beside them. Water streamed down both their faces.
And Andy smiled, ever so softly. Emily felt her heart collapse inward like a dying star.
Andy’s thumb brushed lightly beneath Emily’s cheek catching another tear before it could fall. “You know,” she said softly, “for someone who acts emotionally unavailable, you’re actually kind of catastrophic.”
Emily gave a watery offended sound. “I am not emotionally unavailable.”
Andy raised one eyebrow.
Emily considered this. “…Fine. Historically unavailable.”
Andy laughed happily again. God, that laugh. Emily could happily drown in it.
Andy looked at her for another long moment before slowly straightening her posture as she channeled the inner confident Andy. Perhaps somewhere between kissing Emily senseless in the rain and hearing I love you verbally spoken to her, she had finally realized exactly how wanted she was.
Rainwater slid slowly down her face while her thumb brushed lightly beneath Emily’s cheek again.
Then Andy grinned. Soft and a little smug and so devastatingly fond Emily nearly stopped breathing altogether.
“Be my girlfriend.”
It sounded like a question only technically.
Emily blinked at her. “…What?”
Andy’s grin widened slightly. “You heard me.”
“That was strangely confident.”
“I crossed an ocean for you,” Andy pointed out. “I feel like I’ve earned a certain level of confidence here.”
Emily stared at her in helpless disbelief while rain poured around them. God. Andy looked unbearably beautiful like this. Soaked through and smiling and warm-eyed and completely certain Emily wanted her. Which, unfortunately, she did. Desperately.
“You’re serious,” Emily said faintly.
Andy’s expression softened immediately beneath the teasing. “Completely.”
Wow, sincerity. Awful, awful, awful! Emily genuinely didn’t know what to do with someone loving her this openly.
Andy stepped closer until there was barely space left between them at all. “Come on, Em,” she said softly, grin returning at the edges. “You already confessed dramatically beside an Italian fountain. We’re past plausible deniability.”
A startled laugh escaped Emily before she could stop it. Andy visibly melted at the sound.
“You look revoltingly pleased with yourself,” Emily informed her weakly.
“I am revoltingly pleased with myself.”
Emily could physically feel herself blushing now despite the freezing rain. God. This woman. This woman and the chokehold she had on her.
Andy tilted her head slightly, eyes bright beneath wet lashes. “So?”
Emily looked at her for one long helpless moment. Then finally nodded once. Shy, yes. Sheepish, yes. Sue her.
And Andy’s entire face lit up so openly happy that Emily felt something inside her chest collapse completely.
“Oh,” Andy breathed softly, like she still couldn’t quite believe it. Then she smiled again, warm and crooked. “Okay. Wow.”
Emily stared at her suspiciously. “You’re taking this alarmingly well for someone who was emotionally spiraling across international waters six hours ago.”
Andy laughed. “That’s because six hours ago you weren’t my girlfriend yet.”
Before she could recover enough to formulate a response, thunder cracked loudly overhead. Then the rain somehow intensified again.
Both of them yelped simultaneously as water suddenly came down in absolute violent sheets.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Emily sputtered as freezing rain immediately hit the back of her neck.
Andy burst out laughing. The sound echoed through the piazza bright and breathless and completely impossible.
Emily stared at her in offended disbelief. “Andrea!”
“You’re swearing in a British accent while drenched in rain wearing designer clothes,” Andy managed between laughs. “It’s very amusing you can’t blame me.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“Unfortunately not!”
Rain crashed around them hard enough now that nearby café workers had begun hurriedly dragging chairs beneath awnings.
Emily shoved wet hair out of her face irritably before grabbing Andy’s hand without thinking. The contact jolted through both of them instantly. Yet neither commented on it.
“Come on,” Emily ordered breathlessly. “Before we both contract pneumonia.”
Andy looked absurdly delighted by the hand-holding situation already. “Right.”
Then Emily took off running through the rain, dragging Andy behind her across the flooded Roman square while both of them laughed helplessly beneath the storm.
Their shoes splashed violently through puddles while Rome blurred gold around them in streaks of reflected light and wet marble and breathless ridiculous happiness.
Emily couldn’t remember the last time she’d run like this. Like she was sixteen again, hand in hand with her first ever crush, escaping from the Head of Sixth Form chasing behind them because, PDA. But now she was twenty-three with her crush-turned-girlfriend, roaming around Roman streets freely, who fucking cared about PDA anymore.
Andy’s hand stayed tightly wrapped in hers the entire way.
At one point Andy nearly slipped on the wet pavement and laughed harder when Emily swore viciously in response without letting go once.
“This is your fault!” Emily shouted over the rain.
“My fault?”
“You emotionally ambushed me!”
“You called me crying beside a fountain!”
“Valid reaction!”
Andy laughed so brightly at that that Emily physically felt it somewhere beneath her ribs. God.
They finally ducked beneath the narrow awning of a closed café half a block later, both breathing hard and dripping water everywhere while rain thundered relentlessly around them.
They just stood there laughing softly beneath the shelter while the storm roared through the piazza beyond.
Emily pushed soaked hair back from her face and looked at Andy properly again. Brown eyes warm beneath the dim café light despite exhaustion pulling visibly at the edges of her face now.
Emily’s chest tightened painfully with affection. “What now?” she asked quietly.
Andy looked at her for a long moment. Then glanced upward like she was only just remembering practical reality existed.
“Well,” she admitted, “I flew here in sort of a panic haze…”
Emily smiled despite herself. “You don’t say.”
“And I may have forgotten one tiny logistical detail.”
“What detail?”
Andy looked almost sheepish suddenly. “I kind of need somewhere to stay tonight.”
Emily stared at her. Then laughed softly in disbelief because damn this woman. This unbelievable woman crossed an ocean powered entirely by panic and love and apparently failed to secure accommodations beforehand.
Andy looked mildly defensive beneath the awning. “In my defense, I was emotionally compromised.”
Emily stepped closer again. Rain hammered around them while warm light spilled softly across Andy’s face beneath the shelter. God, she loved her.
Emily reached up and kissed her again. Warm and fond and still tasting faintly of rain.
When she pulled back, Andy looked adorably startled.
“Fuck,” Emily whispered against her mouth, smiling helplessly now. “I love you.”
Andy looked completely helpless afterward. Smiling so openly now it nearly killed Emily on the spot.
Another crack of thunder rolled overhead.
“Come on,” Emily said quickly before she did something catastrophic like confess lifelong devotion beneath a drainage pipe. “Before we actually drown.”
Andy grinned immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t start.”
Then she grabbed Andy’s hand and pulled her back out into the rain. And they were on the run again. Hand in hand through pouring Roman rain like two emotionally deranged teenagers in love. Which, horrifyingly enough, they basically were.
Andy laughed breathlessly beside her while they splashed through puddles beneath glowing streetlights and nearly collided with a very alarmed couple carrying umbrellas.
Emily couldn’t stop smiling. God. This was so embarrassing.
-
They ran the entire way to the hotel.
By the time they burst through the revolving doors both of them looked absolutely destroyed by weather and terrible decisions. Water dripped across polished marble floors behind them while the elegant hotel lobby remained warm and softly lit and painfully civilized compared to the storm outside.
A few guests looked up briefly in alarm. Emily ignored them entirely.
Andy, meanwhile, immediately spotted the receptionist from earlier still standing behind the desk.
The girl looked up automatically, easily recognising Andy. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the scene before her. The soaked clothes, intertwined hands, the red head standing suspiciously close beside Andy looking clearly giddy, and the unmistakable expression of two people who had very obviously just kissed in the rain.
Understanding flashed instantly across the receptionist’s face.
Andy smiled sheepishly. Then mouthed dramatically across the lobby, “Grazie.”
The receptionist grinned helplessly, then very discreetly gave her a tiny thumbs up before pretending to reorganize paperwork professionally.
Emily looked between them suspiciously while leading Andy toward the elevators. “What was that.”
Andy immediately shook her head. “Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m literally soaking wet and emotionally exhausted. I can’t lie effectively right now.”
Emily narrowed her eyes.
Andy just laughed. And God. The sound echoed warm and bright through the lobby while Emily stood there soaked through in Rome completely in love and suddenly realizing with startling clarity that she never wanted to stop hearing that laugh for the rest of her life.
-
The elevator arrived with a soft chime.
The second the doors closed behind them, the atmosphere changed instantly. Thankfully where wasn’t anyone else, just the two of them alone beneath soft golden elevator lighting while water dripped steadily onto expensive hotel flooring.
Andy looked at her. Emily looked back.
That was only when suddenly Emily became acutely aware of literally everything. The soaked fabric clinging to Andy’s shoulders. The way rain still trembled against her lashes. The fact that they’d kissed approximately five minutes ago and Emily somehow already wanted to do it again badly enough to qualify as concerning.
Andy stepped forward slowly. Emily’s pulse immediately began sprinting. It was getting increasingly ridiculous how quickly her body betrayed her around this woman.
Andy backed her gently against the elevator wall without taking her eyes off her once.
Emily’s breath caught sharply as Andy settled one hand beside her head against the wall, close enough now that warmth radiated between them despite the cold rainwater still soaking through both their clothes.
God. Emily could feel her heartbeat everywhere. In her throat. Her wrists. Somewhere behind her ribs moving far too fast to possibly be healthy.
Andy looked devastatingly pleased about this development.
“You’re staring,” Emily informed her weakly.
Andy’s mouth curved slightly. “You make it very hard not to, can you blame me?”
Unfortunately yes actually because Emily currently resembled a drowned aristocrat experiencing emotional collapse.
Andy didn’t seem to agree. Her expression softened slowly into something almost unbearably affectionate while she reached up carefully and tucked a strand of wet red hair behind Emily’s ear.
The gesture was so gentle Emily nearly short-circuited on the spot. There was something deeply unfair about Andrea being capable of looking at her like this. At that moment Emily thought maybe the idiom “you’re the apple of my eye” wasn’t that unrealistic after all.
Andy’s fingers lingered lightly against her jaw. Then her eyes dropped briefly to Emily’s mouth.
Emily stopped breathing entirely. And Andy kissed her again.
Emily melted immediately against her before common sense even attempted intervention. God, this was becoming a problem. Andy kissed like she meant every single thing she’d said out there in the rain. Gentle but confident, one hand sliding gently to Emily’s waist while the elevator hummed softly beneath them.
Emily kissed her back instinctively, fingers catching lightly in the front of Andy’s soaked coat.
Then Emily suddenly pulled back with a startled expression. “Oh my God.”
Andy blinked once, still close enough that their noses nearly brushed. “…What?”
Emily stared at her in scandalized horror. “You stink.”
Andy looked deeply offended immediately. “Excuse me?”
“You smell like wet airport.”
Andy burst out laughing, doubling over slightly laughing while Emily tried and failed to maintain a serious expression.
“It’s horrific,” Emily informed her. “You smell like recycled airplane air combined with the pathetic scent of economy class.”
Andy leaned back against the elevator wall grinning helplessly now. “That’s because I unfortunately possess no fortune nor ability to commute through business class.”
Emily pointed accusingly at her. “Sad little excuse.”
Andy shook her head laughing softly before stepping close again immediately anyway. “Well.” She kissed the corner of Emily’s mouth once. “Cope with it.”
Emily’s stomach flipped violently.
“You’re stuck with me now.”
Emily stared at her.
Andy looked smug immediately. “Oh, you liked that.”
“Don’t ruin this for me.”
“No promises.”
Emily was still blushing furiously when Andy added casually, “Besides, I didn’t bring my shower stuff anyway.”
Emily blinked. “What?”
Andy shrugged lightly. “I panic packed in fifteen minutes.”
“That is psychotic behavior.”
“I know.” Andy smiled faintly. “So I’m using yours again.”
Emily’s brain stalled completely. Again. God.
Andy’s grin turned softer now. More deliberate.
“I know you bring your own toiletries everywhere,” she said innocently. “And after last time I’m starting to think smelling like you might be good luck.”
Emily physically covered her face with both hands. “This,” she informed the elevator ceiling, “is emotional terrorism.”
Andy laughed again, warm and helpless and entirely too fond. Then she gently pulled Emily’s hands away from her face.
“No,” Andy said softly, leaning close enough that her forehead brushed Emily’s once more. “This is me flirting with my girlfriend.”
The word hit Emily like a sniper shot directly to the heart. Her girlfriend. God.
The elevator dinged pleasantly. Thank heavens for impeccably timed moments.
-
The second they stepped into Emily’s suite, Andy stopped short. Emily noticed immediately. And unfortunately knew exactly why.
The room was a disaster. By Emily Charlton’s standards, at least. Catastrophic. One heel lay abandoned near the sofa while the other somehow sat halfway beneath the coffee table. A blazer had been draped carelessly across the armchair instead of hung properly. AltaRomaAltaModa schedules covered half the coffee table in uneven stacks beside an untouched room service tray and three separate glasses of wine in varying stages of emotional abandonment.
The bed was unmade. Like Emily had been sleeping diagonally through psychological warfare for several nights straight. Horrible.
Andy looked around slowly taking in the evidence before looking back at Emily.
Emily immediately crossed her arms defensively. “Don’t.”
Andy’s expression softened almost painfully. “Em…”
“I’ve been busy.”
“There’s a glove in the kettle.” (Emily Charlton you stubborn, stubborn woman.)
Emily glanced toward the counter. “…Right.”
Andy bit back a smile. Which Emily appreciated because if Andrea looked too openly fond right now she might actually evaporate from humiliation entirely.
The truth sat visibly across every surface of the room. Emily had absolutely been losing her mind. Over her. God.
Andy stepped farther inside carefully, while her eyes continued quietly cataloguing the scene. The abandoned jewelry beside the sink. The half-open suitcase. The sweater crumpled near the window seat.
None of it matched the Emily Andy knew. The terrifyingly controlled Emily who organized international schedules down to the minute and color-coded garment bags during fashion week.
Andy’s chest tightened unexpectedly. “You really were miserable,” she said softly.
Emily looked instantly horrified. “Oh stop it.”
Andy laughed quietly.
Then she walked toward the vanity near the bathroom where Emily’s earrings still lay scattered from earlier.
“You know,” Andy said casually, fingertips brushing lightly over the jewelry tray, “when you opened the door earlier…”
Emily narrowed her eyes immediately. “Yes?”
Andy turned toward her slowly, staring at her with that newly discovered look again. That warm dangerous look Andy had apparently unlocked sometime around the kissing-in-the-rain stage of the evening.
Emily’s stomach flipped.
Andy leaned back lightly against the vanity. “I genuinely forgot how to speak for a second.”
Emily tried for composure. “That sounds like a personal problem.”
“It became one when you answered the door looking like that.”
Emily blinked once. “…Looking like what?”
Andy stared at her in disbelief. “Emily.”
“What?”
“You were standing there half-dressed in an open blouse looking like every bad decision I’ve ever wanted to make.”
Emily made a tiny choking sound. Andy visibly enjoyed this reaction.
“Oh my God,” Emily muttered, looking away instantly.
Andy grinned. “You should’ve seen yourself.”
“I did see myself, Andrea. I was there.”
“No, I mean.” Andy laughed softly. “You opened the door and my brain immediately stopped functioning.”
Emily could physically feel heat flooding her face now. Unacceptable. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m really not.”
Andy reached up then, fingers brushing lightly against the open collar of Emily’s still-damp blouse.
Emily’s breath caught instantly. The touch was barely there. Yet no less devastating to her mental health and nervous system.
“You know what my first thought was?” Andy asked softly.
Emily did not trust herself to answer verbally.
Andy’s fingertips slid slowly upward beneath the fabric just enough to graze warm skin at the base of Emily’s throat. “I thought,” Andy murmured, eyes fixed entirely on her now, “‘Holy shit.’”
Emily laughed once despite herself, startled and breathless and embarrassingly affected. God, get a grip, you’re a grown woman.
Andy stepped closer immediately at the sound. Close enough now that Emily instinctively leaned backward slightly
Which became a mistake very quickly because Andy followed without hesitation until Emily found herself backed gently against the vanity counter.
Ooooh. Oh, this was new.
Andy’s expression shifted the second she realized Emily wasn’t pulling away. Impossibly tender but threaded suddenly with enough want that Emily’s pulse jumped hard beneath her skin.
“Andrea,” she said weakly.
Andy visibly liked her reaction. “Yeah?”
Emily opened her mouth. Unfortunately no coherent thoughts survived long enough to become language.
Andy smiled knowingly at this development, before kissing her again. All warmth and lips and hands and the cool hotel room wrapped around them.
Emily melted immediately. God, she was weak.
Andy’s hands settled carefully at her waist, thumbs brushing lightly against damp fabric while Emily tilted instinctively into the kiss. Everything about this felt dangerous in the best possible way. The soft sound Andy made against her mouth nearly destroyed what remained of Emily’s higher reasoning entirely.
Emily’s fingers slid upward into the damp curls at the nape of Andy’s neck before she could stop herself. Andy inhaled sharply. The reaction went straight to Emily’s head. Interesting. Very interesting.
Andy kissed her harder immediately afterward like she’d realized Emily now possessed dangerous information.
Emily made a helpless sound into her mouth, before turning into something else entirely. Because suddenly Andy’s hands tightened gently at her waist.
And before Emily could process what was happening properly, Andy lifted her effortlessly onto the vanity counter.
Emily stared at her in absolute shock. “Oh my God.”
Andy looked equally startled for half a second. Why did she look unbearably smug? Goddammit.
“Well,” Andy said breathlessly, stepping between Emily’s knees naturally as if it was where she’d always belonged, “that worked out nicely.”
Emily was still trying to recover from the fact that Andrea Sachs had just picked her up like it was nothing. “What the fuck,” she whispered faintly.
Andy laughed softly against her mouth again before kissing her once more. The new angle ruined Emily immediately and completely. The way Andy stood close between her legs, one hand resting warm against her thigh while the other tilted Emily’s face gently upward for another kiss.
God. Emily felt dizzy.
“You’re stronger than you look,” she informed Andy weakly between kisses.
Andy grinned against her lips. “You thought I carried all those garment bags through Manhattan for nothing?”
Emily laughed breathlessly again. Then Andy kissed the sound right out of her mouth.
-
By the time they finally made it into the shower, both of them were already thoroughly incapable of behaving normally. Which was entirely Andrea’s fault, Emily would insist. Meanwhile she herself had maintained this position firmly. Again, according to Emily Charlton’s subjective opinion.
Because there was simply no reason Andy should’ve looked like that pressed against the marble shower wall beneath warm steam and soft hotel lighting while water slid down her shoulders and her hands kept finding Emily’s waist with terrifying natural ease. Entirely unfair circumstances.
Emily had entered the bathroom intending dignity. Unfortunately dignity lasted approximately twelve seconds.
After that things became… well, let’s just leave it at bad decisions. Several of them probably. Or great decisions. Take your pick. Emily would be reviewing the situation later with intense personal scrutiny.
At one point Andy kissed slowly down the side of her throat and Emily genuinely forgot her own surname for a moment, which frankly felt medically significant. At another point Emily accidentally backed Andy against the shower wall hard enough to make her laugh breathlessly against Emily’s mouth, and the sound alone nearly restarted the entire situation from the beginning.
-
Despite Emily’s best efforts, the actual shower situation again became untenably flirtatious almost immediately. Emily knew she should have anticipated.
The steam thickened around them while rosemary shampoo and expensive body wash filled the air.
Andy absolutely abused the fact that Emily had willingly let her use all her products.
“Oh my God,” Emily muttered at one point while Andy casually reached for her body wash again. “You’re using an offensive amount.”
Andy looked entirely unrepentant. “I’m committing fully to the smelling-like-you experience.”
“You are never touching my hair mask.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It cost more than your monthly grocery budget.”
Andy nearly slipped laughing. And that only made Emily more gone for her. Humiliating. Damn, her dignity and sanity were both committed to humbling her tonight.
Eventually, after enough kissing to permanently compromise Emily’s remaining brain function, practicality reappeared faintly at the edges of reality. Mostly because Andy still smelled faintly like airport underneath everything else.
Emily noticed immediately. And recoiled in genuine offense. “Oh, absolutely not.”
Andy blinked at her through damp curls. “What?”
“You still smell like the economy cabin.”
“I have literally washed twice.”
“And yet.”
Andy stared at her in disbelief while Emily pointed accusingly toward the shampoo bottle again.
“Do it properly.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“You crossed several time zones. It’s baffling.”
Andy laughed helplessly then leaned forward and kissed her once more anyway. Warm hands against wet skin. Steam curling around both of them.
Emily melted instantly despite herself. God. This woman was going to ruin her permanently.
-
Eventually Emily escaped first before things could become catastrophically irresponsible again. Which was highly difficult. Mostly because Andy kept touching her. Everywhere. In deeply distracting ways.
Emily finally wrapped herself in one of the hotel robes and fled the shower with whatever remained of her self-control while Andy laughed softly behind her.
“Coward,” Andy called after her.
“Shut up and wash your horribly frizzy hair Andrea,” Emily answered immediately.
Andy nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And remember the conditioner.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “If you keep saying it like that we’re going to have another problem.”
Andy bit her lip hard enough to suppress the grin that was threatening to break through, before working the shampoo through her hair while steam fogged the mirrors around them.
And lord was that not a dangerous sight. It’s merely shampoo. Damn. Yet somehow watching Andrea use her shampoo felt more intimate than several things that had happened earlier against the vanity and the countertop.
Emily leaned back against the counter (woah now why were you still standing there) trying very hard not to think about the fact that by the end of this Andy would smell like her. Ahem, no. Not thinking about that. She was not about to go there. Absolutely not.
Unfortunately Andy apparently was.
Andy said casually through the sound of running water. “Ooh, I smell nice.”
“Yes, because I have great taste.” Came the dry response.
Andy finished rinsing conditioner from her hair before peering through the steam toward the counter. “Okay, now what?”
Emily blinked. “What do you mean now what?”
“Is there a post-shower protocol?”
“A what.”
“You seem like someone with a system.”
Emily stared at her. Then, against all logic, found herself saying, “There’s serum.”
Andy’s expression lit up instantly. “I knew it.”
“This is not exciting information.”
“It is to me.”
Emily hated how fond that made her feel.
By the time Andy finally emerged from the shower wrapped in a hotel robe with damp hair and flushed cheeks from the heat, Emily’s emotional state had become deeply unmanageable.
Now Andy smelled unmistakably like her. Her shampoo. Her conditioner. Her stupid expensive body wash. Her hair oil that Emily deeply cherished but yes Andrea can use all she wanted. All wrapped around warm skin and clean steam and Andrea herself. It felt problematically domestic.
Emily escaped before her brain could fully process that thought.
“Right,” she announced abruptly, backing toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change before you become even more unbearable.”
Andy looked delighted. “Too late.”
Emily pointed warningly at her before disappearing into the suite.
The bedroom glowed softly gold beneath the dim lamps near the bed while rain still tapped faintly against the tall windows overlooking Rome.
Emily changed quickly into one of her softer sleep shirts—stunning shade of midnight blue and oversized— before climbing onto the bed with a strange lingering ache still warm beneath her ribs. She pulled the blankets around herself with a long exhausted sigh. Everything hurt pleasantly. Emotionally and otherwise.
She lay on her side against the pillows facing the bathroom doorway while exhaustion settled heavily into her bones at last. Everything felt surreal now that the adrenaline had faded. Andrea had crossed an ocean for her. Andrea Sachs loved her. Her, Emily Charlton, the guarded woman who was supposedly “hard to love”. And right now Andrea was currently in her bathroom using her moisturiser. Might just be the most absurd thing she’s experienced recently.
The bathroom door remained half-open while steam drifted slowly into the room carrying the scent of rosemary and bergamot and Andy humming quietly to herself while apparently continuing an unnecessarily elaborate skincare routine.
Emily smiled involuntarily into the pillow. This was absurd. Beautiful. Terrifying. Wonderful. Life-changing. Magical. Running out of words here.
A few minutes later the water shut off completely. Then came muffled cabinet noises.
Then Andy’s voice drifting out from the bathroom, “How much moisturizer am I supposed to use?”
Emily laughed before she could stop herself. “Less than whatever you’re currently doing.”
“I think I used too much.”
“Obviously.”
Andy made a thoughtful humming noise. “My skin does feel expensive though.”
Emily rolled her eyes fondly. God help her.
The bathroom door opened a moment later. And Emily’s entire chest softened instantly.
Andy stepped out barefoot and slightly damp, sleeves pushed up loosely past her forearms while strands of dark hair still curled wetly against her forehead.
Emily felt it again. The awful overwhelming tenderness of simply seeing her.
Andy noticed Emily watching immediately and slowed to a stop beside the bed, before softening her expression.
Then was when Emily realized too late she hadn’t arranged her face properly. Gone was the sarcastic and defensive attitude. Gone was the British passive aggressiveness. Merely tired affection laid completely bare across her features while she looked at Andy like she genuinely couldn’t believe she was here.
Something in Andy’s face melted instantly at the sight. God. Emily felt suddenly shy under that look. Horrifying, really, considering she’d confessed love in a thunderstorm less than two hours ago.
Andy took another slow step toward the bed. “Hey.”
Emily swallowed once. Then, before embarrassment could stop her, she lifted one arm slightly from beneath the blankets in silent invitation.
Andy looked so immediately emotional about it that Emily nearly panicked and revoked the gesture entirely.
Instead Andy smiled, small and wrecked and so fond it physically hurt to look at. “Missed me already?” she asked softly.
Emily hesitated exactly half a second before nodding shyly. Wow she hated this. Where did all this honesty suddenly come from and where was the real Emily Charlton. Anyway.
Andy’s expression absolutely collapsed. “Oh,” she whispered helplessly.
And then she was moving immediately, climbing onto the bed beside Emily with warmth and damp hair and familiar shampoo scent while Emily shifted instinctively closer before either of them could pretend otherwise.
The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight.
Andy barely settled against the pillows before Emily tucked herself directly into her space like this had always belonged to her somehow. God. That did something catastrophic to Andy’s heart.
She touched lightly beneath Emily’s chin. “Better?”
Emily leaned subtly into the touch before answering. “…Much.”
Andy laughed softly.
Then Emily reached forward sleepily and tugged her closer by the front of her top. Wow, impatient and needy much. Though entirely adorable, so, she was automatically forgiven.
“You’re clingy,” Andy murmured gently into her hair.
Emily made a sleepy offended sound. “I’m exhausted.”
“Mhm.”
“And emotionally compromised.”
“That too.”
Emily curled one hand loosely into the fabric of Andy’s shirt.
“You smell acceptable now.”
Andy laughed softly against the top of her head. “High praise.”
Emily tried rolling her eyes but she looked far too content for it to succeed properly.
Andy brushed damp hair gently away from her forehead. “You know,” she said quietly, “you’re very different when you’re happy.”
Emily blinked slowly up at her. “That sounds threatening.”
“It’s not.” Andy smiled softly. “I just like this version of you.”
Something vulnerable flickered briefly across Emily’s face before she hid it instinctively by burrowing closer beneath Andy’s chin.
And Andy wrapped both arms around her immediately and she felt warm and safe and undeniably pleased.
-
Emily fell asleep surprisingly quickly. Alarming behavior from someone who historically treated rest like a personal moral failure.
But within maybe fifteen minutes of curling herself against Andy’s side, her breathing had softened gradually into sleep while one hand remained loosely fisted in the fabric of Andy’s shirt like even unconsciousness wasn’t enough to make her fully let go.
Andy lay there for a long moment just looking at her. The dim bedside lamp painted everything gold and warm around them while rain still tapped quietly against the hotel windows overlooking Rome. Emily looked impossibly different asleep. Her features seemed to have softened. All the sharpness that usually defined her had loosened beneath exhaustion until Andy could see traces of the woman hidden underneath the armour. The red hair against expensive pillows, lashes still faintly damp from crying earlier, mouth relaxed in sleep.
God. Andy loved her so much already it genuinely felt medically concerning.
Carefully, very carefully, she brushed one thumb lightly across Emily’s wrist where it rested against her stomach. Emily made the tiniest sleepy sound and shifted closer automatically. Andy’s heart nearly exploded on contact.
Then her phone buzzed loudly against the bedside table.
Emily frowned faintly in her sleep.
“Sorry,” Andy whispered immediately, reaching for it before the sound could repeat.
The screen lit up with Melissa’s name.
Andy stared at it suspiciously for half a second before answering quietly. “Hey.”
Melissa spoke immediately without greeting. “So. How are things with your British situationship?”
Andy glanced downward instinctively toward Emily curled against her side. And smiled before she could stop herself.
“I got a girlfriend now.”
Silence.
“You WHAT?”
Andy winced and pulled the phone slightly away from her ear. “Keep your voice down, oh my God.”
“No, absolutely not, rewind immediately.”
Andy laughed softly under her breath trying not to jostle the bed too much. “I flew to Rome. We talked.”
“You FLEW to ROME????”
“Right.”
“Andy! What the hell!”
“Careful, I can hear you’re judging already.”
Melissa ignored her completely. “And now you have a girlfriend?”
Andy looked back down at Emily again. Something warm and helpless bloomed through her chest all over again.
“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I do.”
Melissa made a noise so loud and delighted it nearly distorted through the speaker. “ANDY.”
“And,” Andy added before common sense could intervene, “I kind of made a home run too.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Melissa screamed.
Andy burst into startled laughter immediately while trying desperately not to wake Emily.
“Oh my God, shut up.”
Andy laughed harder. “Melissa.”
“And now you’re in her bed somewhere in Italy?”
Andy looked around the dim luxury suite still scattered with evidence of emotional collapse and expensive skincare products. Wow, life was insane.
“Yeah,” she admitted softly. “I’m in her bed in a Roman hotel. Life comes at you fast.”
Melissa groaned dramatically. “Jesus Christ. You’re living inside a lesbian period drama.”
Andy smiled helplessly into the dark.
Then Melissa’s tone shifted abruptly. “Andy, I can imagine your wallet is crying for help.”
Andy physically winced because unfortunately Melissa was right. The flight. The panic-booked international flight purchased approximately ninety minutes after Emily stopped answering her phone. See, financially speaking, that had maybe not been her strongest moment. In her defense, logic had not been heavily involved. No, logic was not the rock of Andy’s foundation.
“Eh,” Andy said weakly.
“EH?” Melissa repeated in horror. “You bought a last-minute transatlantic ticket!”
Andy glanced again toward Emily sleeping beside her. Worth it. Completely worth it.
“I mean,” she admitted quietly, “that part didn’t really occur to me at the time.”
Melissa made the sound of someone spiritually preparing for disaster. “You are one romantic crisis away from bankruptcy.”
Andy grinned despite herself. “Probably.”
“Oh my God.”
“But,” Andy added softly, unable to stop herself, “I’d do it again.”
There was a small pause on the line after that.
Then Melissa sighed dramatically. “Ugh. That was disgusting.”
Andy laughed under her breath.
“Hold on,” Melissa said suddenly.
“What?”
But the line disconnected immediately afterward.
Andy stared at the phone suspiciously. “…That’s ominous.”
Beside her, Emily shifted slightly in sleep before settling again with her face tucked briefly against Andy’s shoulder.
Andy’s entire nervous system melted instantly. God.
Maybe five minutes passed. Then ten. Eventually Andy’s phone buzzed again with a new message from Melissa.
Check your email.
Andy frowned immediately. Absolutely not. Whatever this was had malicious energy.
Still, curiosity kills the cat. With enormous reluctance, Andy carefully disentangled herself from Emily’s grip and slid quietly from the bed.
Emily made a faint unhappy sound almost immediately at the loss of warmth.
“I’m right here,” Andy whispered automatically.
Emily settled again after a second.
Andy crossed the suite barefoot toward her overnight bag near the sofa, the hotel carpet soft beneath her feet while Rome glimmered faintly beyond the curtains. She dug out her laptop, opened it, and connected to the hotel network with the exhausted determination of someone knowingly approaching disaster.
Sure enough. New email from Melissa.
Subject line:
for your financial recovery. thank me later <3
Andy narrowed her eyes harder. Then clicked the link.
And immediately said out loud, “Melissa, I swear to God.”
It was Melissa’s old blog. Or apparently newly resurrected blog specifically for criminal activity.
At the top of the page in enormous bold letters:
PLEASE FUND ANDY SACHS’ TRIP BACK HOME
Andy stared in horror.
Beneath the title sat a photo of her, extremely unflattering, mid-blink, holding coffee, looking like she had no idea she was about to emotionally derail her entire life.
Underneath, Melissa had written:
Our dear friend Andy Sachs spontaneously flew to Italy in pursuit of true love and emotional devastation. Unfortunately Andy is also an underpaid journalist whose bank account now resembles Oliver Twist’s. Not a farthing, kind sir.
Andy made a strangled sound.
The post continued:
While true love has apparently prevailed in Rome, financial stability has not.
Please consider donating to support Andy’s safe return home from Europe and/or future emotionally impulsive decisions, so she may continue pursuing journalism, love, and apparently British women with immaculate fashion sense.
Every contribution helps. Donation tiers include:
- $5 - airport coffee
- $20 - emotional support pasta
- $50 - “I cannot believe you flew to Rome” therapy fund
- $100 - Melissa stops making fun of her (temporarily)
Attached beneath it: A PayPal donation link. PAYPAL: SAVE A JOURNALIST IN LOVE
Andy stared at the screen in complete disbelief. “She cannot be serious.”
Before she could email back to properly interrogated Melissa, a tiny voice from the bed behind her, “…Andrea?”
Andy turned immediately. Emily had shifted awake slightly, hair messy against the pillows while she blinked sleepily through the dim light toward the empty side of the bed.
God. She looked like a sleepy little kitten. (It’s a secret between you me and Andy, Emily can NOT know Andrea literally thought that.) Soft with sleep and immediately searching for Andy the second she realized she was gone.
Andy’s heart folded directly in half. “I’m right here,” she said quietly.
Emily frowned faintly. “Why are you over there?”
Andy glanced down once at the catastrophic fundraising blog still glowing across her laptop screen. Then back toward Emily. Easy decision. Effortless.
She shut the laptop immediately.
“Nothing important,” Andy said.
Emily lifted one sleepy hand weakly toward her from beneath the blankets. “Come back.”
Andy actually felt emotional about it. And it felt deeply embarrassing considering the circumstances.
Still, she crossed the suite immediately and slid back beneath the blankets beside her.
Emily curled instinctively against her the second she returned, still half-asleep and warm from sleep and smelling so unbelievably pleasant.
Andy wrapped an arm around her automatically. “Better?” she whispered softly.
Emily nodded once against her shoulder.
Then, very sleepily, “You were gone too long.”
Andy laughed quietly under her breath and pressed one kiss gently into her hair. “Sorry.”
Across the room, Melissa’s absurd fundraising page continued existing completely ignored.
Andy honestly couldn’t bring herself to care. Because Emily was here. Curled against her in warm Roman sheets. Half asleep. Holding onto her like she belonged there.
And suddenly every stupid impulsive expensive impossible thing Andy had done to get here felt terrifyingly, perfectly worth it.