The Anguish Of The World Is On My Tongue
The Anguish Of The World Is On My Tongue
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: R
Summary: Every action, real or perceived, comes with its own set of consequences.
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don’t own any of these characters
A/N: A short fill for a prompt I got from an anon way back in Feb.
At the feel of a cool palm pressed up against the small of her back, Andy plastered on a fake smile. She was about to be put on display. Turning, the brunette smiled plastically at the handsome couple that surely meant a great deal to the continued success of the editor. Miranda only ever paraded her to contacts of particular interest to her position.
Andy nodded in all the right places, laughed jovially at the flat jokes, commented on the loveliness of their views. She charmed and enchanted. She played her part of perfect wife very well: Andy was the shiniest trophy in attendance.
The young woman felt the strain of the pretense. Her smile faltered. "Excuse me," she offered woodenly, face set in genial courtesy. She did not turn to look at the editor. She need not look to know Miranda wore the same hollow expression. Andy picked up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter as she sidestepped and avoided everyone. She needed some air. She felt suffocated and strangled in the room with so much artificial nicety.
The adjoining room was less crowded, its tall windows overlooking an illuminated skyline. The brunette moved easily through the perimeter of the room, stopping in front of one of the large windows. She slowly sipped the alcohol while her eyes longingly drank in the freedom just out of reach on the other side of the glass. The din of the party fell away from Andy’s awareness as her mind wandered far and away from the restrictive confines of her situation.
“Six.” Brown eyes locked with Nigel’s reflection. They stared at one another’s transparent images, their visages somber and resigned. “I’ve been sent to collect you,” his inflection transmitted his distaste. At what, precisely, the brunette was not sure.
Andy drained the flute but said nothing. Her fingers idly played with the stem of the glass. She did not turn.
“It wasn’t what you expected was it?” Nigel moved to stand next to her, his eyes moving from her reflection to take in the sight of their grandiose city.
“No,” the brunette didn’t have the energy to pretend with him. They both knew all too well how Miranda was. They had both keenly felt the sharp stab of the editor’s betrayal. They both finally understood what happened to those most loyal to her: they were tossed aside and forgotten.
“Did you honestly believe she would change for you, sweetheart?” He was harder, sharper, crueler. More like Miranda.
Andy finally turned to look at his profile. Her heart wanted to ache for what had become of him, but it couldn’t recall the sensation of sympathy. “I can’t imagine myself ever being that innocent and naïve.” Brown eyes stared hard at her own reflection. “To believe Miranda would change for anybody or anything. Especially love,” the brunette’s voice was factual, flat, and devoid of any emotional register. Maybe she was more like Miranda, too.
The atmospheric change that followed in Miranda’s wake alerted the duo that the editor had entered the room and was most likely headed to their position. Imperceptible sighs escaped both Nigel and Andy as they turned and adopted their usual personas.
“We should’ve been actors,” the jovial tone was accompanied by a wide smile. Only the gravity in his eyes ruined Nigel’s blasé statement. He slowly moved across the floor to direct Miranda to Andy’s location.
“What a fucking farce,” the bitter words dropped like acid from her tongue, but they were hidden behind a forced smile. Andy wanted nothing more than to tear her arm out of Miranda’s grasp when the editor reached her and leaned into her to tell her they were leaving.
The brunette abstained from reacting in the very public setting. But, her skin crawled at the contact. And, it simultaneously burned pleasantly. Andy was slightly repulsed Miranda could still pull desire out of her. Under all the hurt she still felt passion for the editor. It burned white hot and made the pain hurt deeper still.
Looking every bit the happily married couple they had been at the beginning of their marriage, Miranda and Andy walked regally to their waiting car in the midst of flashing cameras. Safely in the darkened interior of their car, their pretense immediately dropped. Andy moved as far away from Miranda as the small space would allow and stared sightlessly out the window. The only indication of the editor’s mood was the displeased sound that escaped her throat before she could stop herself.
Silence reigned for the duration of the drive. The car stopped in front of the townhouse. Neither woman made a move to exit. Finally, Andy opened her door and stepped out. Seeing no movement from Miranda, she turned back and arched a brow. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes,” blue eyes looked at her steadily, “Somewhere.”
~~~~~
“Andy, what are you doing?”
The brunette startled at the sudden interruption by twins that were supposed to be in bed. She wasn’t sure which twin had asked the question, and she didn’t much care, she was well on her way to more-than-a-little drunk.
“Forgetting,” there was no slur to her speech but she teetered on her heels.
The redheads looked at each other, frowns marring their faces. Two sets of sharp blue eyes pierced the now seated brunette. “Where’s mom?”
“Somewhere,” the word was choked out painfully like there were sobs clawing to get out of a slender throat.
There was a long silence in which the twins watched Andy drain the tumbler of whatever alcohol was in it. They moved in unison to sit on either side of the brunette preventing her from rising to refill the glass.
Slightly glassy, brown eyes turned to each girl and saw the echoed reflection of anger, sadness, and resignation on each young face in a way that only teenagers could display their whole hearts on their faces at once. And suddenly, Andy’s heart remembered how to feel: it ached. It was shredded and bleeding by Miranda, but it ached with love for her daughters. Placing the empty tumbler down, the brunette spread her arms and enveloped each twin beneath one arm. She felt two sets of arms crisscross her waist and two heads rest on her shoulders. Andy kissed each red mane and held to them tightly; allowing them to anchor her in the midst of her inner turmoil.
“You know,” Caroline softly broke the silence.
“Mom does this to everyone,” Cassidy picked up the sentence.
“She pushes and pushes and pushes,” Caroline continued.
“Until whoever she’s pushing falls off the edge of their limit,” Cassidy finished.
“She changes everyone,” they said together very softly.
Andy was just drunk enough to momentarily think they were one consciousness speaking through two mouthpieces. Her head was fuzzy with the words and the odd back and forth between the twins, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.
“Stephen got angry and drank,” Andy didn’t know which twin stated the fact but the comparison of Miranda’s ex-husband and her behavior that night made her shudder.
“But, you don’t really get angry or drink,” sadness tinged the voice.
“You smile but you get sadder and sadder,” tears made the teenager’s voice shake.
Andy hugged the girls tighter as the fierce love she had for the redheads welled up inside her. It was a love completely independent of her love for Miranda. All her instincts screamed at her to stay and protect them from any and all pain. Her throat tightened against the insistent tears that wanted to spill out.
“You’re leaving us aren’t you?”
Andy could hear the anger and pain lacing the question. But, mostly she heard the resignation in it. Almost as if the twins had expected the outcome to be her walking away. Even so, she could feel the desperation of wanting a negative answer to the question in the arms that encircled her. It broke her heart.
“I don’t know,” was all Andy could manage. Up to that point, her decision had been emphatically yes. But ensconced between two crying redheads, her heart wavered.
Maybe it was time she pushed Miranda back and saw where the editor’s limit was.
~~~~~
After seeing the redheads to bed with a promise to at least be present in the morning, Andy waited for Miranda to come home. As the clock ticked closer to 4am, the brunette reached the end of her rope. With heart ripping in her chest, Andy slipped off her wedding and engagement rings. She looked at the gleaming metal and diamond with longing for something that would never be. “This isn’t even worth fighting for.”
“You decided that long before tonight,” Miranda’s voice was deadly as it carried from the doorway.
“Where the hell have you been?” Andy’s fisted the rings and considered throwing them in the editor’s face. She put them on the bedside table before she did something she would later regret.
“Keep your voice down,” Miranda reprimanded as if speaking to a small child, “you’ll wake the girls.”
Andy gritted her teeth to keep from shouting at the woman gliding across the room as if everything were fine in their world. “Where. Have. You. Been?” She was shaking with repressed anger.
“Out,” came the flippant reply.
Andy felt the weight of that word finally snap something inside her. It was the spark that lit her rage. She could feel her heart hammering in her ears. Andy wanted to tear Miranda apart. Break her down and remake her. Mark her. Own her.
She was moving before she was conscious of it. Her hands grabbed Miranda’s upper arms, squeezing unmercifully, before she’d given her body the command. Andy was all fury. She was all pain. And, she reveled in the momentary sliver of fear that lighted blue eyes.
“Were you with her?” The whisper was fierce and rough. Brown eyes itched with the sting of tears. Andy wasn’t sure if she was shaking Miranda, or if she herself was shaking with jealousy, hatred, and love.
The editor jerked out of the unyielding grip. Her face was a mask of indifference. Turning, she threw a barb over her shoulder, “What if I was?”
Andy was moving again. This time with purpose: she wanted to hurt Miranda. Angry hands found purchase on the editor’s gown. A rough mouth claimed lips open in shock; the brunette was pleased she could taste only vodka on the older woman’s tongue. The kiss was hard, meant to possess and claim.
Strong arms pushed against the brunette’s shoulders once before gripping them tightly and holding on as they fell onto the bed.
Tearing her lips away from Miranda’s mouth, the brunette trailed her mouth down an alabaster neck. She wasn’t gentle. She marked the soft skin beneath her.
The editor whimpered, her hands gripping strong shoulders tightly.
The loud tearing of fabric brought Andy slamming down to reality. She looked down in dawning horror. Miranda’s dress was rent down the middle, her hands holding the ends of the shredded fabric. “Fuck.”
“That did seem to be the ultimate goal,” the editor’s voice was rough but not quite angry. She was flushed and her gaze, heavy with intent, pierced the brunette.
“Shit,” Andy’s voice shook. She was still so angry but she wouldn’t become this. She wouldn’t allow the editor to make her a monster. “I’m leaving.” Andy started crying; her emotions finally breaking through the damn of her control.
The brunette moved to rise, but Miranda didn’t let her go. Brown eyes looked down into stormy blue eyes. The editor was now pointedly angry.
“You want a divorce?” Miranda’s voice was cold but her eyes flashed with something akin to desperation.
The brunette really did want a divorce but she shook her head.
“So what, pray tell, do you want?” The fingers pressed to the brunette’s shoulders dug in painfully.
“Nothing,” Andy stopped struggling against Miranda’s grasp, “I want nothing from you.” Unexpected sobs tore from her throat. She closed her eyes. Her tears fell from her eyes and rolled down Miranda’s cheeks. “I want to get as far from you as possible as fast as I can,” Andy’s words were interspersed with choked breaths and sniffling, “but I won’t divorce you because I love you too fucking much to put you and the girls through that public scandal.” Brown eyes opened, “How pathetic is that?”
Miranda surged up and captured Andy’s lips with bruising force. The touch burned through the brunette, setting her on fire. She hated what the editor had done, but she loved the woman herself. And she wanted her. So damn much.
Frantic hands pulled Andy’s robe open, jamming unceremoniously into her underwear. The brunette wasn’t quite ready for Miranda, but she wanted her so bad she didn’t protest. The editor was just the wrong side of rough, but Andy welcomed the painfully pleasant burn, it reminded her that things were different.
Moving to reciprocate, the brunette unerringly found Miranda’s center. Slipping into the editor with more force than necessary, Andy remembered her anger. “Did she fuck you like this?” The whisper was almost sensual against Miranda’s ear.
The editor grunted and put her thigh behind her thrusts. Andy gasped and brought her thumb roughly against Miranda’s clit. They moved together and trembled. All heat. And, all passion. Everything an amalgam of too much intensity, pain, hatred, love. They didn’t do anything by halves.
Andy was still crying; her tears falling like hot pinpricks against Miranda’s skin. But they pushed each other closer to release. The pain and roughness deliciously mixing with the pleasure. In an effort to quiet her release, the brunette bit into a tensed shoulder as she bucked against the editor’s hand. The added stimulus tipped Miranda over the edge. Both women strained against each other, riding out their orgasm together. Neither cried out the other’s name. It was a most unhappy release.
“Why did you marry me if it wasn’t forever for you?”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” the editor confessed.
“Miranda, I saw you,” Andy unwittingly brought the picture to her mind and it made her sick with betrayal.
“What you saw was a contrived scene,” Miranda said slowly.
The silence was immediate and pronounced. Alive.
“What do…you…what?” Andy felt lost. Her head felt like it was going to explode.
“I was trying to get your attention,” there was no inflection that indicated the editor’s emotions. It was just matter of fact. A manipulation, a feint, so she could get the response she desired. Andy was just a thing to her; a thing that could be coerced and manipulated to fit into Miranda’s life as the editor pleased.
“Why didn’t you…talk to me?” Bile rose in the brunette’s stomach. It was almost worse to think Miranda would use such devastating emotional pain consciously instead of in the heat of passion. The editor was willing to callously injure her to get her way instead of simply attempting to communicate with her. She was going to be sick. “I…can’t…I can’t,” Andy sounded like she was in physical pain, she pushed away from the editor, “It hurts to be near you.”
“Andrea,” Miranda plead, reaching for the younger woman. She needed to explain.
But Andy was already fumbling with the ties of her robe as she fled their bedroom.
Miranda didn’t know if she imagined the lock clicking into place in the guest bedroom. But, the looming realization that she had made a grievous error didn’t allow her to sleep.
~~~~~
Guilt tore through Miranda like a serrated knife cutting jaggedly into her heart as she saw Andrea enter the kitchen. The brunette’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen with dark circles underneath them. She looked pale and wan-like she hadn’t slept.
“You’re still here,” the twins seemed surprised but happy at the young woman’s appearance.
The knife twisted in the editor’s heart at her daughters’ words.
“I promised,” Andrea said through a thin, but genuine, smile. She hugged and kissed each girl before looking up at the older woman.
Miranda didn’t speak but handed over a cup of coffee in tiny appeasement. She didn’t miss the misting of brown eyes.
Andrea shook herself and took a long sip of her coffee. “I’m going to visit my mom for a little while,” she mostly addressed the twins but her eyes bounced to Miranda’s.
“Are you coming back?” The editor was never more grateful for the bravery and innocence of youth. The young were never afraid to ask the hardest questions.
Brown eyes locked with blue at the question. Andrea was measuring if Miranda was worth coming back to. The brunette’s eyes were so full of pain and longing. The editor wanted to flinch away from the probing stare, but she wanted her wife to come back even more, so she didn’t look away.
Miranda dug in her pocket and closed her hand around two discarded rings. She placed them in front of Andrea, her blue eyes saying it did mean forever to me.
The editor saw the brunette’s throat work down some great emotion. Blue eyes watched in relief and trepidation as Andrea picked up the rings. She didn’t slip them back on. But, she didn’t put them down either. She clutched them tightly in her fist.
“Just give me some time,” the young woman said slowly.
~~~~~
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”
-Mary Oliver
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: R
Summary: Every action, real or perceived, comes with its own set of consequences.
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don’t own any of these characters
A/N: A short fill for a prompt I got from an anon way back in Feb.
At the feel of a cool palm pressed up against the small of her back, Andy plastered on a fake smile. She was about to be put on display. Turning, the brunette smiled plastically at the handsome couple that surely meant a great deal to the continued success of the editor. Miranda only ever paraded her to contacts of particular interest to her position.
Andy nodded in all the right places, laughed jovially at the flat jokes, commented on the loveliness of their views. She charmed and enchanted. She played her part of perfect wife very well: Andy was the shiniest trophy in attendance.
The young woman felt the strain of the pretense. Her smile faltered. "Excuse me," she offered woodenly, face set in genial courtesy. She did not turn to look at the editor. She need not look to know Miranda wore the same hollow expression. Andy picked up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter as she sidestepped and avoided everyone. She needed some air. She felt suffocated and strangled in the room with so much artificial nicety.
The adjoining room was less crowded, its tall windows overlooking an illuminated skyline. The brunette moved easily through the perimeter of the room, stopping in front of one of the large windows. She slowly sipped the alcohol while her eyes longingly drank in the freedom just out of reach on the other side of the glass. The din of the party fell away from Andy’s awareness as her mind wandered far and away from the restrictive confines of her situation.
“Six.” Brown eyes locked with Nigel’s reflection. They stared at one another’s transparent images, their visages somber and resigned. “I’ve been sent to collect you,” his inflection transmitted his distaste. At what, precisely, the brunette was not sure.
Andy drained the flute but said nothing. Her fingers idly played with the stem of the glass. She did not turn.
“It wasn’t what you expected was it?” Nigel moved to stand next to her, his eyes moving from her reflection to take in the sight of their grandiose city.
“No,” the brunette didn’t have the energy to pretend with him. They both knew all too well how Miranda was. They had both keenly felt the sharp stab of the editor’s betrayal. They both finally understood what happened to those most loyal to her: they were tossed aside and forgotten.
“Did you honestly believe she would change for you, sweetheart?” He was harder, sharper, crueler. More like Miranda.
Andy finally turned to look at his profile. Her heart wanted to ache for what had become of him, but it couldn’t recall the sensation of sympathy. “I can’t imagine myself ever being that innocent and naïve.” Brown eyes stared hard at her own reflection. “To believe Miranda would change for anybody or anything. Especially love,” the brunette’s voice was factual, flat, and devoid of any emotional register. Maybe she was more like Miranda, too.
The atmospheric change that followed in Miranda’s wake alerted the duo that the editor had entered the room and was most likely headed to their position. Imperceptible sighs escaped both Nigel and Andy as they turned and adopted their usual personas.
“We should’ve been actors,” the jovial tone was accompanied by a wide smile. Only the gravity in his eyes ruined Nigel’s blasé statement. He slowly moved across the floor to direct Miranda to Andy’s location.
“What a fucking farce,” the bitter words dropped like acid from her tongue, but they were hidden behind a forced smile. Andy wanted nothing more than to tear her arm out of Miranda’s grasp when the editor reached her and leaned into her to tell her they were leaving.
The brunette abstained from reacting in the very public setting. But, her skin crawled at the contact. And, it simultaneously burned pleasantly. Andy was slightly repulsed Miranda could still pull desire out of her. Under all the hurt she still felt passion for the editor. It burned white hot and made the pain hurt deeper still.
Looking every bit the happily married couple they had been at the beginning of their marriage, Miranda and Andy walked regally to their waiting car in the midst of flashing cameras. Safely in the darkened interior of their car, their pretense immediately dropped. Andy moved as far away from Miranda as the small space would allow and stared sightlessly out the window. The only indication of the editor’s mood was the displeased sound that escaped her throat before she could stop herself.
Silence reigned for the duration of the drive. The car stopped in front of the townhouse. Neither woman made a move to exit. Finally, Andy opened her door and stepped out. Seeing no movement from Miranda, she turned back and arched a brow. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes,” blue eyes looked at her steadily, “Somewhere.”
~~~~~
“Andy, what are you doing?”
The brunette startled at the sudden interruption by twins that were supposed to be in bed. She wasn’t sure which twin had asked the question, and she didn’t much care, she was well on her way to more-than-a-little drunk.
“Forgetting,” there was no slur to her speech but she teetered on her heels.
The redheads looked at each other, frowns marring their faces. Two sets of sharp blue eyes pierced the now seated brunette. “Where’s mom?”
“Somewhere,” the word was choked out painfully like there were sobs clawing to get out of a slender throat.
There was a long silence in which the twins watched Andy drain the tumbler of whatever alcohol was in it. They moved in unison to sit on either side of the brunette preventing her from rising to refill the glass.
Slightly glassy, brown eyes turned to each girl and saw the echoed reflection of anger, sadness, and resignation on each young face in a way that only teenagers could display their whole hearts on their faces at once. And suddenly, Andy’s heart remembered how to feel: it ached. It was shredded and bleeding by Miranda, but it ached with love for her daughters. Placing the empty tumbler down, the brunette spread her arms and enveloped each twin beneath one arm. She felt two sets of arms crisscross her waist and two heads rest on her shoulders. Andy kissed each red mane and held to them tightly; allowing them to anchor her in the midst of her inner turmoil.
“You know,” Caroline softly broke the silence.
“Mom does this to everyone,” Cassidy picked up the sentence.
“She pushes and pushes and pushes,” Caroline continued.
“Until whoever she’s pushing falls off the edge of their limit,” Cassidy finished.
“She changes everyone,” they said together very softly.
Andy was just drunk enough to momentarily think they were one consciousness speaking through two mouthpieces. Her head was fuzzy with the words and the odd back and forth between the twins, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.
“Stephen got angry and drank,” Andy didn’t know which twin stated the fact but the comparison of Miranda’s ex-husband and her behavior that night made her shudder.
“But, you don’t really get angry or drink,” sadness tinged the voice.
“You smile but you get sadder and sadder,” tears made the teenager’s voice shake.
Andy hugged the girls tighter as the fierce love she had for the redheads welled up inside her. It was a love completely independent of her love for Miranda. All her instincts screamed at her to stay and protect them from any and all pain. Her throat tightened against the insistent tears that wanted to spill out.
“You’re leaving us aren’t you?”
Andy could hear the anger and pain lacing the question. But, mostly she heard the resignation in it. Almost as if the twins had expected the outcome to be her walking away. Even so, she could feel the desperation of wanting a negative answer to the question in the arms that encircled her. It broke her heart.
“I don’t know,” was all Andy could manage. Up to that point, her decision had been emphatically yes. But ensconced between two crying redheads, her heart wavered.
Maybe it was time she pushed Miranda back and saw where the editor’s limit was.
~~~~~
After seeing the redheads to bed with a promise to at least be present in the morning, Andy waited for Miranda to come home. As the clock ticked closer to 4am, the brunette reached the end of her rope. With heart ripping in her chest, Andy slipped off her wedding and engagement rings. She looked at the gleaming metal and diamond with longing for something that would never be. “This isn’t even worth fighting for.”
“You decided that long before tonight,” Miranda’s voice was deadly as it carried from the doorway.
“Where the hell have you been?” Andy’s fisted the rings and considered throwing them in the editor’s face. She put them on the bedside table before she did something she would later regret.
“Keep your voice down,” Miranda reprimanded as if speaking to a small child, “you’ll wake the girls.”
Andy gritted her teeth to keep from shouting at the woman gliding across the room as if everything were fine in their world. “Where. Have. You. Been?” She was shaking with repressed anger.
“Out,” came the flippant reply.
Andy felt the weight of that word finally snap something inside her. It was the spark that lit her rage. She could feel her heart hammering in her ears. Andy wanted to tear Miranda apart. Break her down and remake her. Mark her. Own her.
She was moving before she was conscious of it. Her hands grabbed Miranda’s upper arms, squeezing unmercifully, before she’d given her body the command. Andy was all fury. She was all pain. And, she reveled in the momentary sliver of fear that lighted blue eyes.
“Were you with her?” The whisper was fierce and rough. Brown eyes itched with the sting of tears. Andy wasn’t sure if she was shaking Miranda, or if she herself was shaking with jealousy, hatred, and love.
The editor jerked out of the unyielding grip. Her face was a mask of indifference. Turning, she threw a barb over her shoulder, “What if I was?”
Andy was moving again. This time with purpose: she wanted to hurt Miranda. Angry hands found purchase on the editor’s gown. A rough mouth claimed lips open in shock; the brunette was pleased she could taste only vodka on the older woman’s tongue. The kiss was hard, meant to possess and claim.
Strong arms pushed against the brunette’s shoulders once before gripping them tightly and holding on as they fell onto the bed.
Tearing her lips away from Miranda’s mouth, the brunette trailed her mouth down an alabaster neck. She wasn’t gentle. She marked the soft skin beneath her.
The editor whimpered, her hands gripping strong shoulders tightly.
The loud tearing of fabric brought Andy slamming down to reality. She looked down in dawning horror. Miranda’s dress was rent down the middle, her hands holding the ends of the shredded fabric. “Fuck.”
“That did seem to be the ultimate goal,” the editor’s voice was rough but not quite angry. She was flushed and her gaze, heavy with intent, pierced the brunette.
“Shit,” Andy’s voice shook. She was still so angry but she wouldn’t become this. She wouldn’t allow the editor to make her a monster. “I’m leaving.” Andy started crying; her emotions finally breaking through the damn of her control.
The brunette moved to rise, but Miranda didn’t let her go. Brown eyes looked down into stormy blue eyes. The editor was now pointedly angry.
“You want a divorce?” Miranda’s voice was cold but her eyes flashed with something akin to desperation.
The brunette really did want a divorce but she shook her head.
“So what, pray tell, do you want?” The fingers pressed to the brunette’s shoulders dug in painfully.
“Nothing,” Andy stopped struggling against Miranda’s grasp, “I want nothing from you.” Unexpected sobs tore from her throat. She closed her eyes. Her tears fell from her eyes and rolled down Miranda’s cheeks. “I want to get as far from you as possible as fast as I can,” Andy’s words were interspersed with choked breaths and sniffling, “but I won’t divorce you because I love you too fucking much to put you and the girls through that public scandal.” Brown eyes opened, “How pathetic is that?”
Miranda surged up and captured Andy’s lips with bruising force. The touch burned through the brunette, setting her on fire. She hated what the editor had done, but she loved the woman herself. And she wanted her. So damn much.
Frantic hands pulled Andy’s robe open, jamming unceremoniously into her underwear. The brunette wasn’t quite ready for Miranda, but she wanted her so bad she didn’t protest. The editor was just the wrong side of rough, but Andy welcomed the painfully pleasant burn, it reminded her that things were different.
Moving to reciprocate, the brunette unerringly found Miranda’s center. Slipping into the editor with more force than necessary, Andy remembered her anger. “Did she fuck you like this?” The whisper was almost sensual against Miranda’s ear.
The editor grunted and put her thigh behind her thrusts. Andy gasped and brought her thumb roughly against Miranda’s clit. They moved together and trembled. All heat. And, all passion. Everything an amalgam of too much intensity, pain, hatred, love. They didn’t do anything by halves.
Andy was still crying; her tears falling like hot pinpricks against Miranda’s skin. But they pushed each other closer to release. The pain and roughness deliciously mixing with the pleasure. In an effort to quiet her release, the brunette bit into a tensed shoulder as she bucked against the editor’s hand. The added stimulus tipped Miranda over the edge. Both women strained against each other, riding out their orgasm together. Neither cried out the other’s name. It was a most unhappy release.
“Why did you marry me if it wasn’t forever for you?”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” the editor confessed.
“Miranda, I saw you,” Andy unwittingly brought the picture to her mind and it made her sick with betrayal.
“What you saw was a contrived scene,” Miranda said slowly.
The silence was immediate and pronounced. Alive.
“What do…you…what?” Andy felt lost. Her head felt like it was going to explode.
“I was trying to get your attention,” there was no inflection that indicated the editor’s emotions. It was just matter of fact. A manipulation, a feint, so she could get the response she desired. Andy was just a thing to her; a thing that could be coerced and manipulated to fit into Miranda’s life as the editor pleased.
“Why didn’t you…talk to me?” Bile rose in the brunette’s stomach. It was almost worse to think Miranda would use such devastating emotional pain consciously instead of in the heat of passion. The editor was willing to callously injure her to get her way instead of simply attempting to communicate with her. She was going to be sick. “I…can’t…I can’t,” Andy sounded like she was in physical pain, she pushed away from the editor, “It hurts to be near you.”
“Andrea,” Miranda plead, reaching for the younger woman. She needed to explain.
But Andy was already fumbling with the ties of her robe as she fled their bedroom.
Miranda didn’t know if she imagined the lock clicking into place in the guest bedroom. But, the looming realization that she had made a grievous error didn’t allow her to sleep.
~~~~~
Guilt tore through Miranda like a serrated knife cutting jaggedly into her heart as she saw Andrea enter the kitchen. The brunette’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen with dark circles underneath them. She looked pale and wan-like she hadn’t slept.
“You’re still here,” the twins seemed surprised but happy at the young woman’s appearance.
The knife twisted in the editor’s heart at her daughters’ words.
“I promised,” Andrea said through a thin, but genuine, smile. She hugged and kissed each girl before looking up at the older woman.
Miranda didn’t speak but handed over a cup of coffee in tiny appeasement. She didn’t miss the misting of brown eyes.
Andrea shook herself and took a long sip of her coffee. “I’m going to visit my mom for a little while,” she mostly addressed the twins but her eyes bounced to Miranda’s.
“Are you coming back?” The editor was never more grateful for the bravery and innocence of youth. The young were never afraid to ask the hardest questions.
Brown eyes locked with blue at the question. Andrea was measuring if Miranda was worth coming back to. The brunette’s eyes were so full of pain and longing. The editor wanted to flinch away from the probing stare, but she wanted her wife to come back even more, so she didn’t look away.
Miranda dug in her pocket and closed her hand around two discarded rings. She placed them in front of Andrea, her blue eyes saying it did mean forever to me.
The editor saw the brunette’s throat work down some great emotion. Blue eyes watched in relief and trepidation as Andrea picked up the rings. She didn’t slip them back on. But, she didn’t put them down either. She clutched them tightly in her fist.
“Just give me some time,” the young woman said slowly.
~~~~~
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”
-Mary Oliver