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It wasn't particularly late, but darkness had already settled over the city, and like so many nights before, Miranda was still working with the same relentless focus. Andy had learned that whenever work demanded Miranda's full attention, meals became optional. Fortunately, being Miranda's assistant gave her the perfect excuse to intervene.
Her real priority had always been Miranda.
Miranda had protested when Andy showed up with food an hour earlier. She'd called it "unnecessary," then she'd finished every last bite without mentioning it again.
After finishing her meal and sharing a moment with Andy on the couch by the office windows, under dimmed lights and with the city growing dark beneath them, Miranda had already gone back to work. Resting on her desk were the first drafts for the upcoming Runway event: a mountain of notes that had been consuming both of their lives for days. Miranda was in charge of every decision, and Andy, as always, was responsible for turning her words into reality, no matter how impossible the task. It had been a long time since Miranda had stopped questioning whether Andy could pull it off. She simply expected her to.
About fifteen minutes had passed when Andy decided she had gone long enough without Miranda's attention. She walked slowly toward the desk, where Miranda remained completely absorbed in her work. Before she even reached her, Andy's eyes were drawn to Miranda's hands; her eyes always found their way back to her hands. She loved the precision with which Miranda turned a page, the effortless elegance of every movement, the measured tap of her fingernails against the desk whenever she was deep in thought. Those were hands Andy had memorized.
Miranda didn't even bother to look up. She didn't need to. She could already sense Andy's presence, the warmth of her body approaching from behind, a warmth that was no longer a mystery to her.
"Andrea. What are you up to?" Miranda asked, her eyes never leaving the desk.
Andy let out a small, amused chuckle as she walked around the desk, slowly positioning herself behind her. "Who, me? Just wanted to see how far you'd gotten."
Miranda scoffed. "It's hard to make progress when my assistant insists on being a distraction."
"Assistant? Is that all I am now?" Andy tilted her head, pretending to give it some thought. "Though, now that I think about it, the label does fit," she teased. "I do care about your well-being, you know?"
Andy abruptly closed the distance until she was pressed against Miranda's back, her chest brushing against the editor's slightly bent frame. "And for other reasons, too..." Andy whispered in a soft, poor attempt at flirting, leaning in to breathe in that all-too-familiar scent.
Miranda let out a slow but controlled breath, forcing herself to remain still. She wasn't going to give Andy the reaction she wanted. Not so easily.
"Andrea." She tried to maintain her usual composure while pretending to review some papers Andy didn't really care about anyway.
Andy took a step closer. "I don't see the danger," she muttered. "It's late, there's no one here. Emily left about…" she paused to quickly calculate, "forty minutes ago. I've always wanted to be close to you while you work. I love watching you do what you love."
"Your fascination with watching me has been duly noted," Miranda remarked, "as well as your poor attempt at distracting me because you're incapable of going five minutes without my attention." She let the papers fall onto the desk, still refusing to turn around. "However, I must remind you that the office doesn't offer much privacy," she added, raising her eyes for the first time to the glass doors. "Anyone could walk in at any moment…" she warned in a fragile whisper.
"Believe me, it would do you good to lose control every once in a while," Andy murmured, bringing her face closer to Miranda's neck. Miranda didn't realize she had instinctively tilted her head, giving Andy free access.
Miranda smelled like heaven. Andy was obsessed with that scent Miranda carried hidden beneath her perfume; it felt as though her home was on Miranda's skin, a canvas she loved to explore. Andy looked up, noticing Miranda had left her neck exposed, but still wouldn't dare to look at her. Her gaze traveled down to the older woman's hands, which were still resting on the pile of papers. Andy admired her precision at work, her attention settling on the elegance of her fingers. Miranda was a woman who revealed so much of herself in the way she used her hands: those same hands that worked to organize the most sophisticated events in the fashion world and determined the significance of new clothing designs were the very ones that molded to Andy's body and held her hips so perfectly in the intimacy of the townhouse.
Those lips… a single smile could crown a designer's artistic choices, while a mere purse of her lips could ruin careers, yet those same lips were the ones that welcomed Andy's tongue. Her lips… Andy was hungry again. But she understood Miranda's fears. Miranda had spent weeks getting used to having Andy by her side as more than just an assistant. She was so accustomed to their daytime dynamic of having Andy around to smoothly handle every task. At night, after delivering The Book, she would wait for her with a quick kiss as a reward. That is, if the twins were already asleep. Those were the moments Andy craved because she knew they weren't the norm, but it was that secret between them that made her work even harder to earn them.
Miranda loved that.
But Andy was working to get more than just that at the office. They'd been staying late for several nights, nights when Emily also had responsibilities, leaving Andy only able to bring Miranda some food. Sure, on the surface it looked innocent enough, a simple task for the second assistant. But Andy knew she was looking out for Miranda's well-being, trying to get closer to her in public, though with Emily around, it was always a bit complicated.
On days when Emily or Runway staff weren't wandering around, Andy had better opportunities to test her luck and she'd sneak into Miranda's office to clear away her dishes, trying to steal a smile or a knowing glance. Eventually, it became a brush of hands as she passed by the desk. Miranda always looked as if she were about to draw the line, but she never dared to say no out loud. Words weren't even necessary. Miranda would hold her breath for a few seconds whenever Andy dared to go too far, seconds after Andy touched her simply because she had missed her the night before. But after those brief moments, with a single icy glance from Miranda (which concealed a great deal of worry and vulnerability), Andy knew she wouldn't get any further than that.
So the fact that on this particular night Miranda was letting Andy come up behind her and press her body against hers as closely as humanly possible felt like Andy had won the lottery. Andy wanted to take more risks. With Miranda's scent clouding her senses, the hunger to push further felt inevitable.
Tentatively, she brought her lips close to the edge of Miranda's jawline. She sighed, stopping completely, and Andy quickly pressed another kiss right on her neck. Miranda froze; for a second, Andy was convinced she'd be thrown out of the office and blacklisted from every publication for the rest of her life. Instead, she noticed Miranda lift her gaze, casting a quick glance toward the office's glass doors. Miranda let her shoulders drop ever so slightly, finally accepting Andy's arms as they wrapped around her.
Andy sensed Miranda's tension, but she didn't pull away. She just wanted to be there for her. With her.
For Miranda, feeling Andy's arms around her was the comfort she'd always needed from the brunette to lift the weight off her shoulders, even if she found it hard to show.
Miranda got used to the position with Andy still pressed against her. Andy didn't dare kiss her again, but she breathed in Miranda's scent once more, resting her chin in the crook of her neck. She began focusing on Miranda's reaction; she noticed her starting to shuffle papers to hide the nervousness of having her assistant so physically close. Andy began to comfort her by gently running her fingers over Miranda's collarbone, feeling the warm skin beneath her fingertips. She smiled to herself. She knew Miranda would hate how sweet she was being.
Well, no. Miranda hated how much she liked it when Andy was so sweet.
Andy's attention was drawn to Miranda's hands again. Her delicate fingernails tapped the desk as she avoided any sudden movement, as if the slightest shift would completely shatter her. Miranda's hair partially blocked the view, so Andy slowly moved her hand from Miranda's shoulder to tuck a white strand of hair away while Miranda tried to keep reading.
"You have a system for your paper clips, don't you?"
Miranda paused for a split second, but ignored her.
So Andy leaned forward, gently pressing Miranda against the desk, and let go of the strand of hair to curiously nudge one of the paper clips.
"Andrea," she warned.
"I'm just asking."
"No."
"… Don't touch the silver ones," Miranda continued.
Andy let go of the paper clip immediately. "So, you do have a system."
There was a beat of silence. Andy was speechless, automatically stepping back from Miranda as she burst into laughter. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that," she managed to say between giggles she couldn't hold back. She felt a surge of pride for teasing that confession out of her; she had suspected it for days. Suddenly, Miranda couldn't help herself and let out a laugh too, her control slipping as the papers slid from her hands. That sound was music to Andy's ears. But a second later, the laughter died down, and Andy looked up.
Miranda turned around and now they were face to face. Miranda watched her closely in silence, a suppressed smile threatening to show on her lips. She took a step forward, studying Andy's face. A spike of anxiety hit Andy. Maybe she had crossed a line.
"Are you quite finished?"
Andy dared to smile. "Maybe."
"Pity," she breathed, stepping forward to invade Andy's personal space.
Gracefully, she moved in, taking a chance, and quickly pressed her lips against Andy's. Andy couldn't believe that Miranda had turned the situation around, rewarding her just when she thought she hadn't earned it yet. Miranda pulled away as fast as she had leaned in, as if testing the waters, unsure of Andy's needs.
Andy's eyes sparkled. With her mouth slightly parted, she searched Miranda's eyes for any flicker of hesitation, taking in every detail of her face with admiration. Her gaze drifted to the strand of hair she had been playing with moments before. Andy's first instinct was to reach out and smooth it back into place. Miranda caught herself and pressed her lips together. At that subtle movement, Andy couldn't help noticing her lips. She looked back up, silently seeking the permission she'd been chasing for days, and Miranda answered by quickly licking her lips.
"She's nervous," Andy thought. Andy made her nervous. Fuck permission.
Andy closed the distance in one swift motion and pressed her lips firmly against Miranda's. Her hand found the older woman's jaw, holding it gently as she rested her palm on her cheek, deepening the kiss. Miranda moaned in surprise, and Andy's breath hitched as she kissed her tenderly. Responding to Andy's rhythm, Miranda opened her mouth. Her hand tentatively sought out Andy's waist, and as soon as she found it, she pulled her passionately toward her, pressing their bodies together again. Andy leaned in, forcing Miranda to step back until she was pressed against the desk. Using her height to loom over her, Andy cornered her, leaving her no escape while her lips devoured Miranda's.
Miranda's taste was just as mesmerizing as her scent, and that was what Andy loved most: the thrill of exploring her. She couldn't get enough. She could get drunk on Miranda's taste, lose her breath entirely, and still thank Miranda for allowing this.
Andy felt a slight pressure and opened her mouth to invite Miranda's tongue, letting her explore deeper. The contact drew a low moan from her, which caused Miranda to tense up and nip at Andy's lower lip. Andy abruptly pulled away in surprise.
Miranda's reflexes made her reach for Andy's mouth again, but Andy wouldn't let her. She looked at Miranda with her mouth parted, her lips swollen, and let out a dramatic gasp of indignation. Miranda laughed at the expression, which immediately made Andy smile. Taking Miranda's face in both hands, she pressed her lips firmly against hers once more, kissing her with the hunger she'd been holding back ever since she'd watched her from the couch.
Miranda's hands found Andy's abdomen and began to slide upward, under her blouse. The sensation made Andy dizzy, she opened her eyes in a brief effort to regain control, but soon buried her face in Miranda's neck again. She still hadn't had enough.
Andy was still devouring Miranda's neck when a sudden movement snapped her out of her trance, making her look up. Her heart stopped mid-beat.
The last thing she expected was a figure standing in the threshold, eyes locked onto them.
Shit.
Nigel.
The world went cold. Andy's lips slowly pulled away, her gaze fixed on Nigel, whose expression revealed little more than a hint of surprise.
Miranda immediately tried to pull Andy back in, an arm curling firmly around the nape of Andy's neck to keep her close. But Andy instinctively took a step back. Miranda went still, her eyes searching Andy's with a flash of confusion.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice breathless and dangerously exposed.
But Andy couldn't say a thing, she just stared at the doorway. Sensing the shift in the room, Miranda slowly turned her head, following Andy's terrified gaze.
The silence grew so heavy that Andy didn't know how to interpret it.
"I seem to have interrupted."
Andy watched as Nigel's eyes shifted between her and Miranda, until they settled on his boss. It turned into a silent staring contest, neither of them willing to back down or reveal anything.
After what felt like an eternity, with Miranda defiantly holding his gaze, Nigel seemed to realize he wouldn't win this silent war. With an almost imperceptible nod, he turned on his heel and walked away in complete silence.
Oh, God. He saw. He definitely saw. Panic clawed at Andy's throat. How long had he been standing there...
"Andrea."
Miranda's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Miranda wasn't looking toward the door; she was looking right at her.
Her eyes searched Andy's with a trace of fear, and her lips, though pursed in an attempt to maintain control, trembled just a bit. Her breathing, still ragged from the intensity, was uneven. Miranda was desperately searching for an anchor, for any kind of reaction from Andy to what they had just experienced. Andy realized this was Miranda at her most exposed, vulnerable to the one thing she feared most in the world.
Andy breathed rapidly. She glanced toward the doorway where Nigel had just disappeared, then locked eyes with Miranda again. She was about to speak, but Miranda looked away, breaking their contact.
"Well..." Miranda began.
Andy cut her off before she could go any further.
"… He heard about the paper clips, didn't he?"
She wasn't going to run away. The corners of Miranda's lips twitched into a small smile.
Two hours had passed, yet the air in the office remained thick, charged with the ghost of the encounter.
Miranda had retreated behind a fortress of productivity, burying herself in work and avoiding Andy's gaze with surgical precision. She had dismissed any lingering intimacy by stating, with characteristic sharpness, that the event logistics required her full attention, and that Andy was, quite frankly, becoming a significant distraction. Andy had accepted the silent boundary and stayed in her seat, keeping her focus on her tasks. They were back to discussing floor plans and seating charts. It was a mundane return to order, and it felt absurd. Just two hours ago, they had been pressed against that same desk, and now, the glass doors felt like a transparent, public reminder of how close they had come to losing everything.
How could she have been so foolish as to give in to temptation? In the process, she had risked jeopardizing years of Miranda's work, all for a single, compromising moment. The thought made her skin crawl. She was grateful it had been Nigel and not Emily, or worse, someone with real leverage. What the hell would she have done if Irv Ravitz himself had walked through that door?
She didn't want to find out.
Later, Roy was waiting as usual, parked on the street. Miranda and Andy wrapped up the evening in silence, a routine so familiar it required no words. Andy was lost in the wreckage of her thoughts, and she could tell, by the rigid set of Miranda's shoulders, that she was in the same place.
As Andy helped her with her coat, the familiar scent of Miranda's perfume hit her, pulling her right back to earlier. It felt surreal that, only hours ago, they had been completely consumed by one another. Now, the mask was back in place. There was no trace of what had passed between them. A familiar knot of anxiety tightened in Andy's gut. She couldn't help but blame herself for everything that had happened, reading Miranda's cold silence as a sign of disappointment.
What did this mean for Miranda? That was the question haunting Andy the moment she slid into the leather seat beside her. Without meaning to, she had turned one of Miranda's greatest fears into reality, and a sudden dread began to creep in. What would happen to them now? They were still so new, so fragile. Was this the breaking point? Was what Miranda felt for her enough to keep them together?
Andy was so buried in her own thoughts that she barely heard Miranda speak to Roy. She usually relied on those few minutes at the townhouse, the quiet and stolen half-hour that had become their only real escape. But tonight, the silence felt heavy. That time together had been their sanctuary, a place to drop the act. Yet, as the car cut through the city, Andy highly doubted tonight would be one of those nights.
The car ride remained silent, which only allowed Andy's thoughts to consume whatever sanity she had left. This wasn't like messing up a coffee order or bringing the wrong skirt. This was different. This was about the life they had started to build. The quiet nights at the townhouse and the time she spent with the twins. Miranda kept that part of her life closed off from everyone else. She had trusted Andy. And now, Andy was terrified she had ruined it.
Andy pulled herself out of her thoughts for a few seconds, breathing slowly to keep her composure, and looked to her side. Miranda was focused on the window, watching the city glow in the dark. Andy looked down at how close their legs were, almost touching, and saw Miranda's hand rested in her lap. Slowly, Andy dared to hover her hand in the air, not quite brushing against her, waiting to see if Miranda would turn, if she would at least sense her there. But with her fingertips only inches away, she pulled back, unsure if she was still welcome. She didn't want to be the one to overstep, not after what had happened. Blinking away the urge, Andy turned to stare out of her own window, letting the silence swallow her up once more.
But then, she felt Miranda move. Slowly, warmth brushed against her skin as Miranda's fingers found hers, intertwining them with such ease it took Andy's breath away.
Andy turned to look at her. But Miranda was still staring out the window, her gaze lost in the city lights even as she held Andy's hand in her own. A soft sigh escaped Andy's lips, and a second later, she could have sworn she felt the faint brush of Miranda's thumb over her knuckles.
When the car finally pulled up to the townhouse, Andy braced herself. She expected Miranda to let go, slide out, and dismiss her with a cold, formal goodnight. Instead, she found herself stunned when Miranda simply murmured her usual instruction.
"Roy. Wait for Andrea. I require her assistance inside. She will be out shortly."
Roy simply nodded. Andy looked up, but Miranda had already stepped out of the car without waiting. Through the rearview mirror, Andy caught Roy's eye, shooting him a silent, apologetic look, the same one she gave him every night. She hated keeping him waiting, but at Runway, sleep was just a rumor anyway.
By the time Andy got out of the car, the townhouse door was already open. She hesitated for a beat, surprised. She hadn't expected Miranda to let her in tonight, let alone wait for her. Did this mean they were actually going to talk?
She stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her.
"Andrea?" Miranda's voice called out from the other room, hesitant.
Oh God.
"I'm coming," Andy said, moving toward the sound.
The kitchen was familiar ground. Usually, their nights ended with some shared routine, but tonight, Miranda had gone straight for a bottle of white wine.
"Let me," Andy whispered.
Miranda paused, her hand resting near the bottle for just a second, before she stepped back and took a seat at the island. She pushed a stray lock of hair from her face with a tired sigh, her fingers lightly tapping the marble.
Andy reached into the cabinet, took two glasses, and poured the wine. Miranda leaned back, slipping off her heels. The silence between them was heavy, but not cold. If Miranda wanted to talk about what had happened at the office, or if she was ready to put some distance between them again, Andy couldn't tell. They knew each other too well for this silence to be empty, but it wasn't as if having a secret relationship, or the risk of being seen at work was something scheduled on Miranda's calendar.
She circled the island and placed the glass in front of her. Miranda looked up, her fingers brushing Andy's as she took it. Andy didn't move away. She simply stayed there, watching her, struck by how easily all of this could disappear. Those hands, usually a blur of command at Runway, were quiet now.
Miranda held the glass for a moment before setting it aside to take off her earrings, her bare feet pressing into the cool floor. This was a version of Miranda no one else ever got to see.
Andy didn't want to lose this.
"Sorry."
It was the first thing that slipped out before she could think. Miranda went still.
"Sorry?" Miranda repeated, finally looking at her. "For what, exactly?"
"I'm sorry—"
"I fail to see what you have to apologize for," Miranda reached for her glass and took a quick sip as if the matter had already been settled.
Andy lowered her gaze. The guilt was heavy, a quiet ache settling in her chest at the thought of forcing Miranda into a conversation she had no right to ask for.
"I know how much you didn't want anyone to know."
Miranda took a slow breath and set her glass down before looking back at Andy. She tilted her head slightly, taking her in.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Andy swallowed hard, her throat dry.
"Are we okay?" Andy whispered, barely able to meet Miranda's eyes.
Silence stretched between them again. Miranda studied her for a long moment.
Andy didn't know what to expect, but she felt Miranda's soft, tentative hand slide over hers again, just as it had in the car. Andy looked up to find Miranda searching her face, a rare vulnerability in her eyes.
"You weren't the one who forgot where we were," Miranda said quietly.
Her grip tightened.
Miranda had an early meeting and hadn't arrived at Runway yet. The last time Andy had seen her was the night before, when they had fallen into silence at the kitchen island, Miranda holding her hand, their wine long forgotten. Things seemed fine, Miranda hadn't fired her, and she hadn't pushed her away. But Andy could feel Miranda's guard slipping back into place, and her mind was heavy with the need to make things right. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes briefly, trying to gather her thoughts. She had to find a way to bring everything back to normal. The thought of Nigel looking at her differently now was something Andy couldn't bear.
"Andrea! Are you planning on staring into space all morning, or are you actually going to do your job?"
Emily's voice, rushing in as she carried Miranda's morning coffee, brought Andy back to the present. Emily handed the cup over, telling her to take care of it since she had to run and collect some samples Miranda hadn't had time to review the day before.
Emily vanished as fast as she had arrived. Andy stood there, the heat of the cup warming her hands, when Miranda appeared in the doorway, watching her with a precision that made Andy feel like she was being dismantled, piece by piece.
"There you are," Miranda said in that low register reserved only for her.
Andy nodded, immediately ready for whatever Miranda needed. She forced a small smile, but even the familiar task couldn't stop the slight, nervous tremble in her hands.
Miranda's gaze dropped, catching the movement instantly.
She stepped closer, just enough to close the distance between them. As Miranda reached out to take the cup from Andy's hands, their fingers brushed.
"Call Matteo. I want the final layouts before noon," Miranda said, her voice steady as she pulled the cup away, already turning back toward her office.
A faint blush crept across Andy's face, the warmth of Miranda's fingers still lingering on her skin. "Yes, Miranda."
Once she finished the call with Matteo, Andy tried to lose herself in the work in front of her, but she was entirely somewhere else. Her mind so consumed by the woman in the next room that she didn't even realize she was holding the stapler upside down. She simply pressed it down against the layouts, heard a slightly awkward click, and quickly closed the folder, setting it aside on the corner of her desk.
Andy let out a soft exhale. She had never been good at pretending something didn't affect her. Especially when that something was Miranda.
And somehow, she was looking at Miranda again.
Across the office, Miranda looked exactly as she always did. Perfectly composed, entirely in control behind her desk, her hands moving in their familiar, flawless pattern. Writing notes, sorting pages. Andy couldn't help smiling when she noticed a neat little pile of silver paperclips set apart from the others on her desk.
Andy stared at her screen, trying to concentrate. It lasted barely thirty seconds before her mind slipped right back. To Miranda's hands. To the way they had held hers the night before. The paperclips… the kisses… Nigel. God.
"Andrea?"
The voice came from her office, even and controlled.
Andy walked to the doorway. Miranda looked up, her eyes lingering. She studied her for a moment, with a rare softness settling over her features.
Under her gaze, Andy was suddenly very aware of the black dress that fell just below her knees, and the heels that still felt far too expensive for someone who used to own only one pair of shoes. She hadn't thought much about it when she got dressed that morning. She just knew Miranda liked dresses.
"Did you call Matteo?" Miranda asked, lowering her glasses slightly as her eyes continued their slow climb up and down.
Andy knew that look. Miranda could make her feel like she was the only thing that mattered in the world when she focused on her like this.
"Yes. Do you need anything else?" Andy asked, an amused smile playing on her lips.
Miranda shook her head. "No. Could you bring me the folder with the layouts from yesterday? The one I left on your desk."
"Of course, Miranda."
Andy turned around, immediately feeling the heat of Miranda's eyes burning into her back. She couldn't help but smirk as she walked away.
When Andy returned with the folder, she handed it over, deliberately ignoring the neat little pile of silver paperclips still sitting beside Miranda's papers. Miranda accepted it, muttering a quiet thank you. She opened the folder and stopped, her eyes falling on the first page.
"You used the stapler wrong."
Andy leaned in slightly, looking down. It was definitely a mess. She had managed to crush the staple at a terrible angle, tearing a small, ugly hole right through the corner of the layout.
"It's avant-garde," Andy said, a cheeky grin pulled at the corner of her mouth.
Miranda arched an eyebrow, looking down at the ruined page. She let out a restrained huff of amusement.
Andy turned, sensing the moment had passed. She was already halfway to the door when Miranda's voice stopped her.
"Oh, and Andrea?" she added, her tone carrying a subtle, teasing edge.
Andy paused, but didn't turn back.
"Keep that dress."
Andy kept walking, her pulse quickening, knowing full well that Miranda didn't need to see her face to know exactly what color her cheeks had turned.
The quiet didn't last. Once Emily returned, the office fell back into its usual frantic pace, and to Andy's relief, the work dragged her back to reality. The busier her hands were, the less room there was for her thoughts to go back to the night before.
Between emails and prepping for the event, Andy ended up organizing the notes for that afternoon's photoshoot to make things easier for Miranda. Her hand moved to a small box of colored paperclips on her desk. She grabbed a handful, her fingers reflexively separating the silver ones. A small, involuntary laugh escaped her, and she cleared her mind with a quick shake of her head.
This was getting ridiculous.
After spending the last hour coordinating the tight schedule for that afternoon's photoshoot, Andy finally had everything printed and organized. She picked up the folder and walked across the hallway to drop it off.
When she reached the office, she instinctively started to open the door, eager for any excuse to be near Miranda. But through the glass, she saw her busy on a call, looking tense. She didn't need another reason to worry. Hoping she hadn't been spotted, Andy slowly lowered her hand from the handle. She stepped away and retreated to her desk, deciding it was better to wait until Miranda called for her.
A few minutes later, the editors arrived in a hurry, waiting for the photographer before heading into Miranda's office. After a quick discussion, they all rushed back out, heading down the hallway to the photoshoot.
As Miranda headed out with the others, she beckoned Andy over, silently asking for the schedules. In the middle of the chaos, as Andy handed them over, Miranda's fingers brushed against hers for just a second longer than necessary. She offered a faint, almost invisible smile before disappearing with the rest of the team, acting as if no secret had just been exchanged between them.
Andy let out a breathless laugh, unable to shake the smile from her face as she blushed all over again.
"Whatever you're smiling about, I need you to stop. It's unsettling," Emily said, without looking up from the email she was typing.
A few days later, the event was finally underway. Miranda spent most of her time in meetings, while Andy ran between departments, coordinating and approving last-minute changes. The days got so long that, some nights, they didn't even make it back to the townhouse together. Still, they kept finding each other for split seconds during the day: a cup of coffee left on Miranda's desk, a quick look across a crowded room, the way their hands brushed when no one was looking. Andy felt like Miranda was making a silent effort to show her that what had happened hadn't changed anything between them.
There was only one thing Andy couldn't ignore. Nigel.
He hadn't mentioned that night. Not a single word. And that silence was exactly what worried her the most. He hadn't said anything. At least, not yet.
Around Nigel, Andy found herself watching her every move. She avoided getting too close to Miranda, forcing herself to correct habits that had been second nature just days ago, and holding back small impulses that used to feel completely safe. Nigel hadn't brought it up with her, and since no one else in the office was acting any differently, it meant he hadn't told a soul. But the weight of that silence still sat heavy in Andy's chest.
And the weight was becoming unbearable, bleeding into her work. This useless anxiety constantly chasing her. Andy couldn't keep torturing herself by playing out conversations in her head that would never take place. If anyone could reassure her that everything was fine, it was Miranda.
So Andy did what she always did. She stood up from her desk and walked across the office. She knocked softly twice before opening the door.
Miranda, as usual, didn't even look up. She didn't have to. "Andrea."
The familiar cadence of her name sent a wave of relief straight through Andy before she could even speak. It was the ultimate proof: Miranda was indeed the only person who could quiet the noise in her head.
She stepped closer to the desk.
"Did Nigel say anything?" Andy asked, keeping her voice barely above a breath.
Miranda simply turned a page without looking up from the layout sheets. "No."
Andy hesitated. "… Are you sure?"
That did it. Miranda set her pen down on the desk, her eyes lifting to meet Andy's.
"Andrea."
Just her name. The one she loved hearing so much, the one that belonged exclusively to Miranda. Andy knew what was coming. It was the silent reprimand of her overthinking. Miranda held her in place with a look for a moment, letting the weight of her undivided attention do the talking.
"There is nothing to worry about," Miranda said.
Andy still looked uncertain. Miranda had been watching that look for days. She held Andy's eyes for another second before adding, "Nothing has changed."
Another pause.
"You're still coming over tonight."
The words carried none of her usual distance. Andy searched Miranda's face for any sign of doubt, the same way she had the night Miranda kissed her in this very room.
Before Andy could read her, Miranda pulled back, hiding behind her paperwork again. "Now, I'd like my coffee, please. That's all."
"Right," Andy whispered.
Their little secret.
Andy left the office with a strange lightness in her chest. Miranda had a way of easing every single one of her worries. It wasn't that her anxiety about Nigel had magically vanished. He was still Nigel, and she would probably still overthink every time someone looked too closely at Miranda's office. But for the first time in days, she no longer felt like she was waiting for everything to fall apart. And she was going to see Miranda tonight.
She could finally breathe.
Andy ordered Miranda's Starbucks exactly the way she liked it, searing hot, of course, then got one for herself too. A small smile crossed her face when she realized she was walking back into the office carrying something for both of them. She could already feel herself getting embarrassingly sentimental about it.
But maybe she was allowed to.
That feeling vanished the moment she stepped back onto the floor. Nigel was heading toward Miranda's office. She knew better than to panic. If he was going to say something, he would have done it by now. It had been days. Everything was fine. Still, she couldn't shake the memory of him standing in that doorway, witnessing something she had never meant anyone else to see.
Before Nigel reached the door, Andy stopped him. "Nigel, wait."
He paused, turning back with mild curiosity. Andy set the Starbucks on her desk before reaching for a folder.
She held it out to him. "Miranda wanted you to review these."
Nigel took it without a word. He opened the folder with the same sharp attention he brought to everything at Runway, but he paused for just a second on the first sketch. On the clip.
"Good to know they're color-coded."
Andy froze. She didn't know whether to laugh or disappear.
"Nigel…" was all she managed to say.
He held up a hand before she could explain. He closed the folder slowly.
"You should make her laugh more often." He said it so softly that Andy wondered if she had imagined it. But before she could react, Nigel grabbed Miranda's Starbucks from her desk and walked into Miranda's office, the folder still tucked under his other arm.
Andy didn't even have time to think before the phone rang.
Miranda read Nigel's face the second he crossed the threshold. She recognized that look instantly but continued signing the document in front of her without pausing. "If you are here to discuss the other day—"
"Actually," he interrupted, sounding entirely unbothered, "I came to discuss the photoshoot."
Her pen moved to the next signature. "It was successful."
"Yes."
"As expected."
"Of course."
The steady scratch of her pen was the only sound in the room, but Nigel didn't budge. He stood his ground until the quiet became too heavy to ignore.
Finally, Miranda set her pen down. "I assume this isn't urgent, Nigel. And what do you have there?"
Nigel offered a faint, knowing smile as he stepped closer, placing the coffee on the corner of her desk. "Oh, this? Andy gave it to me before I came in. Don't worry, I didn't steal it."
Miranda didn't react. Not visibly.
"Miranda."
The shift in his tone was enough. She heard what he wasn't saying. Her fingers tightened against the edge of her desk.
"Don't." The word came out too quickly.
"I haven't said anything."
"You were about to."
"I've worked with you for twenty years."
"Twenty-one," she corrected, her voice sharp.
"Twenty-one, then." Nigel took a half-step closer. "I've seen this office survive scandals, impossible designers, divorces…"
Miranda didn't defend herself. She remained perfectly still, which was somehow more revealing than any answer could have been. "But I always wondered," Nigel murmured, "who could possibly be extraordinary enough to make you forget yourself."
For a single second, Miranda's control slipped. The answer was there, just beyond the glass partition. The girl sitting at the desk outside.
Andrea.
The phone rested between her shoulder and cheek as she scribbled a note at full speed, her handwriting somehow remaining immaculate. An untouched cup of coffee sat beside her. She moved with a seamless, intuitive precision, never reaching for the wrong thing, never pausing. Nothing about it looked rushed. Andrea never waited for problems to arrive at her desk; by the time they did, she had already found the answer. Miranda knew that expression. She had seen that same expression in the mirror for years.
But looking at Andrea now, it wasn't just the reflection that made Miranda's chest tighten. It was the memory of her touch, the sense of balance she had brought into Miranda's meticulously ordered life. There was no room for physical closeness here, not under the bright office lights and the unspoken rules they had to maintain. Yet, Miranda watched the way Andrea's lower lip caught between her teeth as she worked, the very same lip Miranda had tasted, the one that had ruined every boundary Miranda had spent a lifetime building. The formal distance they kept in public was a mere performance. The only truth left was the memory of Andrea's mouth, and the sudden, disarming realization that Andrea had changed everything, and she was never going back.
Nigel didn't need to ask what had stolen her attention. He simply waited.
"So did I," Miranda replied, the corner of her mouth barely moving.
Nigel offered a faint smile, the kind of discretion only decades of friendship could afford. The honesty between them requiring no explanation.
"I just never thought she was already here."
Miranda's eyes reluctantly drifted away from Andrea, returning to Nigel, though she couldn't quite meet his eyes. Outside, Andy remained completely oblivious, likely trying to save all of Runway before lunch.
After a long silence, Miranda spoke with the weight she reserved for things she had already decided.
"I know."
Nigel recognized the certainty in her voice, a flicker of satisfaction in his expression as he turned to leave.
"I heard you laugh," he murmured, pausing by the door. "I think she's good for you."
Miranda didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Before leaving, Nigel gave Andy one last glance. She raised her head, confused by the sudden attention, but offered him a polite smile. Nigel simply nodded once before continuing on his way. Andy watched him go for a moment, then she glanced toward Miranda's office.
Miranda was already watching her.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Miranda looked away first, her fingers wrapping around the warm paper cup. But as she raised it to her lips, the warmth of the cup felt almost cold compared to the memory of Andrea's skin. She took a sip. By the time she set the cup down, Andrea was already back to work.
Andy forced herself to turn back just as her phone started ringing again. Another designer wanted to bypass Miranda's approval of the event sketches, and the production team was demanding immediate confirmation. Andy pulled the phone back to her ear as she began to negotiate. It was a familiar dance of protecting Miranda's vision while keeping the rest of the world from panicking.
Only after she hung up did she allow herself another glance through the glass. With Nigel gone, Miranda sat in silence. She hadn't picked up her pen. Instead, her manicured fingers were drumming a slow, uneven rhythm against the desk. It was an unguarded movement that had nothing to do with the work in front of her. Andy watched for a second longer, enough to realize Miranda wasn't looking at anything at all.
The silence at her own desk felt heavy, like a space she didn't know how to fill. Instead of waiting, she gathered the latest event revisions and moved towards the office. She didn't pause at the door, didn't check for a sign of permission.
Andy stepped into the office, letting the silence finally pull her closer. She slid the folder onto the desk, but Miranda gave no indication that she had noticed.
"The revised sketches are sorted by designer," Andy said, her voice low. "And I've included the final files for tomorrow's deadline."
The room seemed to settle as Miranda's fingers came to a stop against the desk.
"I'll bring dinner later before we leave. Don't argue."
Miranda leaned back in her chair, finally turning her attention back to Andy. Something between them changed. The silence between them had become something else entirely. Miranda allowed herself the rare luxury of not retreating. It was permission.
"Thank you, Andrea."
The tone was barely a murmur, stripped of her usual authority. Andy stayed in the room. Miranda didn't dismiss her. She simply let the space remain theirs.
Andy's smile was small, almost private. She finally turned to walk away, but had only made it halfway across the room when the faint rustle of paper made her pause.
Miranda had opened the folder.
She wasn't looking at the sketches. She was running a thumb over the silver clips, tracing the small detail Andy had taken the time to get right.
Andy didn't turn around immediately. By the time she did, Miranda had already stood up. The clips were forgotten. Miranda was looking directly at Andy now, her expression unreadable.
"I learned."
Miranda closed the space between them, not with urgency, but with a certainty Andy had never seen before. She simply reached for her. Her fingers brushed against the neckline of Andy's blouse, the gentleness of it revealing far more than desire ever could.
Miranda tilted her head, allowing herself a moment to appreciate Andy's reaction, and leaned in until her lips were inches from Andy's ear.
"Show me."
Andy didn't step back. She didn't want to.