Chapter 42: Where the Heart Is Pt. 1
Author: TheLadyHoll
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Yes, they are mine. I own them. Come to me my pretties and dance, DANCE I SAY. Or, more truthfully, not...
So after this absolutely MASSIVE (8.5k) word chapter, the plot for the story will pick up considerably. However, I did have some requests for a 'break' and for some fluff, so think of this chapter as an amalgamation of one-shots I've been playing around with alongside this story. Andy's return the twin's testimony is up next, so enjoy the feel-goods while you can! xo - H
To say Miranda was not in a good mood the day of Andy's departure was an understatement to the grossest degree. Between Irv's threats and the approaching trial where Stephen and Stephen's attorney would have full access to the twins, her nerves hinged on hairtrigger. Add in to that the knowledge that she was going to be apart from Andrea for the next 12 days and she knew she had reached new levels of intolerable. What made it worse was just how tolerant everyone was being of her abominable behaviour. Her employees, who already walked as though on glass around her, now accommodated her increasingly ridiculous demands with an almost sympathetic demeanour. This pregnancy really was ruining her image and undermining any authority she could still claim under her moniker as Miranda Priestly. Emily, Nigel and Serena however, knew the editor's mercurial behavior was due to more than just pregnancy hormones and the attentions of the press, and so gritted their teeth and prepared for the worst.
Miranda would not be accompanying Andrea to the airport, their goodbyes would be said at home away from the prying eyes and ears of the press. Besides that, Miranda had a long overdue meeting with Massimo that she couldn't justify putting off any longer - least of all so that she could see her lover off on a weeklong business trip, even if courting and charming the photographer was the last thing she wanted to do. But very rarely, she sulked to herself as she waited for the man to be shown in, did Miranda Priestly actually get to do what she wanted.
'What she wanted' was currently waiting in the executive lounge of JFK despite the fact she was flying coach, courtesy of the Turkish airlines check-in attendant. Miranda had insisted on upgrading Andy's ticket but the younger woman had refused with a gentle reminder that Miranda had promised not to interfere with her job. Even a clever show of tears hadn't been successful in changing the journalist's mind and Miranda had relegated herself to an evening of sulking as she watched Andy pack the last of her things into the two ratty suitcases that had been staring her in the face, mocking her for the last week as they'd sat across from the bed, a reminder that she would be sleeping in that bed alone while the younger woman was gone.
Still, her ability to remain angry with the brunette failed her in the end, and she'd moved immediately into the arms that reached out for her as the young woman finally climbed into bed that evening, knowing it was likely the last good night's sleep she would have until Andrea's return. Yet another point of weakness she hadn't counted on when their relationship began. She recalled her stiff words to Andrea when she had stated her desire for and intention of sleeping alone, displacing Andrea to claim the guest room as a secondary sleeping area. How wrong she'd been. There hadn't been a single night where Miranda had found she preferred not to be in the brunette's arms. For ages she would tell anyone that in most cases, she preferred to be alone, however her relationship with Andrea had changed all that - changed her in ways she never would have expected. Any discomforts, be it from the pregnancy or stemming from her own mind as was the wont of La Priestly, never outmatched her desire for Andrea's presence or her touch. When they had slept apart, it had only ever been during a fight or due to hospital restrictions, and in both cases, both women found the experience to be torture.
Andy had been sleeping with a body pillow for the last week in preparation for the trip and Miranda had extremely reluctantly agreed to its use as a substitute although it was anything but. And it was with a high degree of reticence and an increasing feeling of ridiculousness that she stared down at her new 'bed-mate', scowling at it and inwardly blaming it for not being Andrea.
"I am not sleeping with that thing, Andrea. You aren't leaving for several days."
"I know," the brunette flopped down on the bed. "But you have to get used to sleeping with it before I leave or you'll never use it while I'm gone…and then I'll be the one lying awake and miserable because I'll be thinking of you here, alone and uncomfortable."
"Oh, all right," Miranda huffed, uncrossing her arms and letting Andrea lay the silly thing between them in bed, arranging it so that it supported Miranda's body like Andy's did when they were sleeping.
"How's that?" Andy curled her own body around the pillow so that she was still able to reach the editor.
Miranda admitted the white monstrosity did something, at the very least, to take the pressure off of her spine, and in agreeing to its use while Andy was away, managed to get her way in not using it that night and having the younger woman's delicious, warm weight pressed against her.
"You think you've won, haven't you Priestly?" Andy whispered into a pale, pink ear as they both fell asleep. But although she hadn't yet succumbed to the tempting call of unconsciousness, Miranda stayed silent, the silence telling as she simply laid her head against Andrea's chest, sighing softly as she finally let herself claim sleep with the comforting weight of the younger woman's arm settled protectively over her waist.
"Sweet talker," was the final murmur heard in the room as Andy rested her own cheek against soft white hair that moved gently with her deepening breath as she too drifted off with the bone-deep sense of rightness and contentment that came with being next to the one you loved.
The next few nights before Andy's trip passed in a similar fashion, which led to where they both were now…without each other and disliking it immensely.
Andy checked her ticket for the millionth time and wondered if it was time yet to leave the exclusive members-only lounge. The paparazzi had been waiting for her early this morning and she'd secretly been glad she had let Miranda have her way in insisting on Andy's having Roy drive her to the airport. Not that Miranda normally didn't get her way, Andy snorted as she thought back, but the older woman had been reasonable in allowing Andy to make her own decisions when it came to her career and her job and this trip, even if she was the one who had insisted on the younger woman taking it in the first place. Andy knew, however, that the older woman's insistence was because she knew how much Andy secretly wanted this opportunity and she was willing to sacrifice her own comfort to make sure she took it.
Andy boarded the plane amidst a cacophony of voices speaking Arabic, among some serious or silent, most were chatty, laughing, all apparently happy or excited to be going home or visiting family and all Andy could think of how this plane was taking her away from her family rather than to them. Butterflies flooded her stomach, but she couldn't tell if it was anxiety over leaving her own family or excitement or nervousness about the trip. In either case, what she wanted most of all was to have Miranda by her side. It seemed she was always bravest when she was around the editor and she could use that bravery and Miranda's ever-steadying presence as the jet's engines rumbled beneath her in preparation for takeoff. And although she was eager to prove herself as a journalist and a 'newbie' on the team with this trip, she also found herself counting down the days, if not minutes, until she had the love of her life back in her arms and all her babies under one roof.
Miles away, on the 17th floor of an office building, a figure stood alone, silhouetted against the floor to ceiling windows through which she stared in deep and silent contemplation. Her hand ran absently over the steep curve of her abdomen in a half-hearted attempt to soothe its fractious occupants seemingly reacting to one mother's absence as well as their other mother's turmoil over it - although who by all appearances appeared calm and collected.
A quick glance at the slim, gold Cartier watch on her wrist told Miranda that in moments, she and the one her heart already ached for would no longer share the same ground.
The second round of wardrobe fittings were not going as smoothly as the first, and that was saying something given that the last time resulted in Miranda barring two major design houses from entering the maternity market for 2 years.
"This is atrocious" Miranda seethed, fixing her glare on an unfortunately located Nigel. "Please tell me this isn't all we have and this is my entire staff's idea of some colossal joke?" Nigel sighed, running a hand over his head, God he wished Andy weren't ten thousand feet in the air at the moment - both for Miranda's sake as well as his own. In addition to the younger woman's absence being the primary reason for the editor's ire, she was also the only one who could talk Miranda down when she was this tightly wound. Sickeningly sweet, she would tell Miranda how beautiful she was as she moved the offending clothes rack aside, her hands going to the editor's bump magnetically, and would go on to sweet talk and cajole the unhappy woman into at least a state of resigned sullenness rather than a state of apoplexy.
"Furthermore, is it too much to ask that design be taken into consideration in the planning of these garments? How ever am I supposed to reach the zipper in my current state?" She flicked a hand in disgust at the three full to bursting, discarded racks bearing clothing that had been deemed from unsatisfactory to requiring immediate conflagration.
"Miranda," Nigel held up a hand beseechingly, making sure he kept eye contact with the older woman so that she didn't misinterpret his interruption. But then he switched veins entirely…
"What time is Andy supposed to get in?"
Miranda sniffed, shifting her gaze from Nigel's, appearing to rifle through one of the racks with a distinct air of indifference. "The flight was to have landed an hour ago, however I've been told customs over there is a nightmare and then she has to drive into the city in some godforsaken cab provided she can find one that's unoccupied." Miranda shuddered inwardly at the thought of her Andrea in some sweaty, smelly taxi trying to explain the directions she'd been given to the foreign driver.
"Miranda, I could walk outside right now and that would be the case for half the cabs in Manhattan!" Andy had laughingly responded. But Miranda hadn't found it funny in the slightest. "Which is why I insist on Roy driving you," she had added tartly.
It was that casual and heated repartee that she missed along with so many other factors.
"I'm sure she'll call soon, Miranda." Nigel offered kindly.
"Did I say she wouldn't?" Miranda snapped, directing her focus once more to the racks of what would doubtlessly be further disappointments. "I don't know know why we're talking about this anyway. Now is there something in this disappointing mess that doesn't magnify the effect this pregnancy has had on my hips?"
Nigel wanted to say something about how wonderful she looked, and how well she wore the mantle of maternity despite the many health concerns that had come with it, but he held his tongue lest it be ripped out by 'La Priestly' who was out in full force at the moment. There was a new radiance and softness to her features he didn't know whether to attribute to the pregnancy or to Andrea and the effects of being 'in love' for the first real time in her life.
"Let's see," he mused, rifling through the racks and praying for a miracle as he eyed the colourful collection of fabrics and textures, finally settling on a periwinkle blue number from Lanvin which he paired with a dangerous pair of teetering nude spikes from Stuart Weitzman knowing the older woman wouldn't be moving around over much. "Here, try this one."
Miranda raised an eyebrow. "I thought of all people you would know I rarely wear pastels," she drawled slowly, appraising the silk blend with a practiced eye above which quirked up a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Nigel shrugged casually, although on the inside his gut was churning at the risk he was taking. "Trust me on this one, besides what have you got to lose? Everything else has been a disaster…"
"Which is precisely why you had better hope this doesn't prove a further waste of my time," Miranda bit back acerbically, plucking the garment hanger from the nervously sweating art director's outstretched arm and disappearing behind the curtain of the makeshift dressing room in The Closet. Following a hissy fit by one of the models last week that had resulted in the heel of a Jimmy Choo piercing the dressing room mirror, shattering both the mirror and her career in the process, Miranda was therefore unable to view the outfits on herself prior to exiting the stall. All she had to go on was the first reaction of whoever was standing outside.
A pale hand parted the black drapery and Nigel gasped audibly, simultaneously cheering himself on in his head before remembering to shut his mouth which gaped open as the editor emerged. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he was looking at Miranda ten years ago when she'd been pregnant with the twins, the first set that is.
Eyes a deep rich blue, flashed up at him, sparkling brilliantly as they questioned his dramatic response to her entrance. Pale skin glowed against the fabric where it parted against her curves, luminous wherever the light touched it erasing any lines or wrinkles. Cheeks flushed rosy and with health led to a delicately arched mouth that no one would have ever guessed could be so cutting and acerbic were they seeing it for the first time.
As for the dress itself, it dipped in a low V to lie against full, firm breasts - the creamy swells heavy in anticipation for the coming infants but that still pushed up and outwards enticingly against the neckline and that beckoned anyone who viewed them closer with an almost primal effect.
The fabric, twisting once to cross under her breasts, grew tighter, dispersing with the loose folds and draping as the eye travelled down, highlighting the brief pause between her breasts and abdomen that remained as testament to the smallness of her frame and figure when not expecting before blooming outwards, the ruched fabric a close caress over the dramatic curve of her stomach outlining her gravid state clearly but not crudely or extravagantly. Relaxing once more in structure, the muted sheen of the silk flowed downwards over Miranda's body from her hips only to be drawn up once more at the knees, crossing over in a wrap-like fashion so that the merest glimpse of creamy, white inner thigh could be seen when she moved in just the right way.
"Miranda," Nigel breathed, forgetting once more to keep his mouth closed, "My God, you're stunning."
"Nigel, really," Miranda scoffed, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve in an excuse to touch the buttery soft fabric.
Nigel raised his hand. "On my mother's grave, Miranda."
"I don't see what all the fuss could possibly be about."
He stepped away so that Miranda could see the mirror. Outwardly, the editor's expression didn't change, and she regarded herself with an air of careful scrutiny but no real interest. Nigel, however, had years of experience 'dressing' Miranda. Dear God, he must have undressed her more times that her husbands had, something he teased her about on the rare occasions they had found time and he had coaxed her out for a drink and they'd both gotten hammered - well, at least as hammered as Miranda could get that he'd seen. He didn't know what the brunette's influence would be were Miranda not pregnant and therefore unable to imbibe. Other than Andy though, Nigel was the one person who could generally seem to navigate with any consistency, the editor's mercurial moods and as a result he had become somewhat of an expert at deciphering the visual cues the older woman gave, even unwillingly. Hell, he was the one who had taught Andy in the first place. He recalled instructing the forlorn new assistant in the 'art' of Miranda, explaining the significance of a nod and the nuances and subtleties put out with the pursing of lips. Now the student had become the teacher. Regardless, Nigel could tell by the way the corners of her eyes lifted, pupils dilating to clear azure and the tips of her ears turning pink that she was pleased with what she saw and he breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the older woman smooth her hands down the sides of the dress, turning to see her silhouette from multiple angles and deeming the result to be satisfactory.
And there it was, Nigel tried to hide his grin, a nod…
"Passable," Miranda decreed, an elegant hand reaching behind her back to slide down the zipper.
"Finally, a designer who is capable of understanding the form of a human body and not just simply heaving forward a tasteless mass of fabric with armholes or a crude casing similar to what one might find enrobing deli meats."
Nigel snorted at 'Miranda-speak' for referring to looking like a stuffed sausage, but he carefully schooled his features back into a suitable expression of professional interest as Miranda caught his gaze before disappearing back behind the curtain.
"Miranda, I don't believe that piece will need any alterations, shall I add it to the rack of 'yeses'?"
"No."
Nigel was surprised to hear the cool tones respond.
"Send it directly to the townhouse with the Book & the rest of the dry cleaning tonight, tell Emily." She referred to her newest assistant who the real Emily was training with militaristic precision following the last fiasco with Stacy and her release of sensitive documents to Irv for use against her to the Board.
He smiled to himself as he zipped the garment bag, remembering how it had looked on the editor. That…that was why he did what he did.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, a young journalist staggered through the door of her hotel room, never more glad she hadn't brought the Louis Vuitton as her cases fell with a muted thump on the carpet, sending up a faint haze of dust as they did. The chalky red dust seemed to settle in every crack and crevice it touched, including those on her body, Andy noted, as she grimaced at her reflection and the sweat lines that streaked red like blood on her neck and chest. She didn't have time to shower however, it had taken so long to get to the hotel from the airport that she barely had time to pull her laptop out of her messenger bag and connect to the tenuous wifi signal before she was greeted by the welcome sight of two almost-identical faces grinning back at her.
Likewise, at the kitchen table in the townhouse, the brunette's face suddenly appeared on the screen.
"Andy!"
"Hey munchkins, how's it going?"
"Okay, I guess. It's weird not having you here."
"Yeah," Cassidy agreed.
"I miss you guys too, and the conference hasn't even started yet! I haven't even showered since I left New York!" Andy's voice raised in pitch dramatically and it had the desired effect as both girls burst out giggling at her theatrics.
"I wanted to talk to you guys and see your faces before anything else. Where's Miranda?"
Caroline and Cassidy exchanged a quick glance. "She's not home yet."
Andy did the math quickly in her head and full lips twisted in an unamused grimace as she realized it was seven o'clock in New York, and Miranda had promised to try to be home by 5 or 6 each night. As if on command, however, the creak of the front door could be heard and the woman in question came into view; her heels already slipped off and her shoulders slumped slightly as she pressed a hand to her back and rubbed the underside of her belly after she had unbuttoned her jacket.
At the sight of the younger woman's face on the monitor, the editor's tired features lit up and the spark returned to her eyes that melted from icy grey to Andy's favourite shade of blue. Once again, Andy was hit with the realization of how much she loved this woman, and judging by how fast her heart was beating inside her chest, it seemed her entire being was crying out for the other woman's touch. She grinned, her heart still fluttering madly as the editor moved closer and into the light.
"Hey beautiful."
As expected, the editor's face registered shock for a moment as though she couldn't quite believe the younger woman thought of her as such before flushing a charming shade of pink that spread down her neck and, as Andy had firsthand knowledge, down the rest of her body as well.
"Are they giving you any trouble?" Andy nodded her head towards Miranda's belly, which she kept one hand clasped to as she lowered herself onto the kitchen chair Caroline had just vacated.
Miranda looked affronted. "Of course not! Our children have been perfect angels." She sniffed and straightened her back before wincing slightly as a twinge in her side caused a catch in her breath. "My body, however, is not as cooperative."
"Oh honey, I wish I was there to help." The brunette's lips pouted in a sad moue. "After you eat something - because I know you haven't yet - try a warm bath and see if that works out the knots, okay? And if it doesn't I want you to call, or have Emily call the physiotherapist to schedule you in for tomorrow.
"Andrea, I don't have time -"
"Half an hour. Half an hour for me."
"I-oh alright…"
"Thank you."
"Could you guys stop the mushfest? We still have to eat too you know!"
Andy laughed and Miranda shook her head, chuckling wryly.
"Why don't you see what Carmen's left for you & set the table. Gimme five minutes with your mom & then I'll let her go."
"Andyyy, we'll starve!"
"Go on, off with you, you wretches," Miranda left the kitchen and wandered into the living room where she set the laptop down on the low coffee table in front of the couch.
"So how was today?"
"Awful", Miranda replied, sitting down with a 'hmph' that preceded a barely audible groan as she twisted her shoulders one way and the other. "Five pieces were lost in transit so we only had a third of what we needed for the shoot. Runway is going to have to start compensating or recompensating the smaller designers to use insured methods of shipping. Irv will have a cow, it's just what I need."
"Urgh, can we not talk about him when I'm not there to hypothetically kick his ass?"
Slipping the elastic waistband of her Donna Karan maternity skirt lower on her hips, Miranda heard the peal of Andrea's bell-like laughter cause the laptop speaker to crackle and knew she'd been caught. She ignored this however and simply continued to arrange herself more comfortably on the couch knowing she was in Andrea's full view. She smirked, watching the brunette's gaze rove downwards along the length of her body as she stretched her legs out on the sofa and she smirked, flexing one calf and causing her skirt to ride up further and slipping her toes beneath the cushion at the far end so they were out of the brunette's sight.
"You're dying to get a look at my feet aren't you," Miranda accused wryly, lacing her fingers over her exaggerated waistline and rubbing her abdomen in long, smooth strokes as she sought to unwind from the long day.
"Jeez, Miranda, you make me sound like a pervert," Andy complained, sitting back on her heels on the bed. "You tell me I'm not allowed to ask you how you're feeling, so needs must I have to resort to secondary methods of retrieving information if you're not going to show me your feet aren't swollen from your shoes and your blood pressure," she pointed out accusatorily, her lips breaking into a grin despite herself at the impossible-ness of her lover.
"And for teasing, you owe me a freebie. So tell me honestly, how are you feeling? Any dizziness or headaches today while you were dealing with the missing clothes? And is what's-her-name, Tara, the new assistant, remembering to keep the Pellegrino on your desk refilled?"
"Fine, no, and yes - I've had 6 glasses today and I'll likely have another two before retiring this evening."
Andy sucked her bottom lip into her mouth looking slightly shamefaced. "Okay, I'm sorry, I just wish I were there, in person. I miss you," the brunette's lips turned downwards in a frown and Miranda found herself wanting to nip the much-abused bottom lips, sucking it back out and teasing it until it was no longer pulled into a frown.
"I know, it's sappy…"
Miranda drew her mind back to the conversation with a sigh, knowing her desires were impossible. However, Andy took her sigh as an agreement to her last comment.
"You're right, I'm sorry, I'm holding on too tight, I'll back off…"
'Wait, what?' Miranda's eidetic mind skipped back in the conversation and realized what Andrea must be thinking. She didn't want the younger woman to back off, rather that was her fear as the journalist stretched her wings surrounded by the exotic sights, sounds and experiences of the foreign country she was in. In fact, she feared Andrea would realize just how much she enjoyed this aspect of her job and realize how much of her freedom she had sacrificed when she had accepted Miranda's ring.
But despite the excitement of the international conference, the younger woman made sure to 'call' the townhouse every evening to check in on 'her girls', even if 'the girls' themselves weren't always on time themselves.
"Miss Andy, the girls just went upstairs to get changed. They'll be down in a moment."
"Thanks Carmen. Oh! While I have you here, how's the meal plan been going? Is Miranda following what Dr. Jansen suggested?"
"I cook it just like you say according to the doctor's note, but she does not eat enough, Miss Andy. Only when it is something she is craving. Then it is unbelievable what one tiny woman can put away with the two babies in her belly. Two days ago she went through six pudding cups. I'd only gone shopping the day before and we were already out again when she was looking for them yesterday."
Andy burst out laughing as she imagined the editor sneaking into the kitchen and being caught surrounded by the empty plastic pots in equal, anal-retentive order of chocolate and vanilla flavors.
"Andy, you should have seen her face when she realized we'd run out of the pudding cups. You would have thought someone died. That only lasted for a moment though before I was sent back out by Ms. Miranda to buy more 'so we would have enough for the girls' lunches'. Do you know how long that trip takes during rush hour? I made sure to buy enough to feed an army. Downstairs now in the pantry, there are twelve packages of 6. And of course it has to be an even number of vanilla and chocolate, ay dios mio." The older woman exclaimed, but Andy knew from the way she spoke that she didn't mind in the slightest, like Andy she was only concerned that the editor was eating enough and getting all the vitamins she needed to keep her and the babies healthy.
Later that night, Andy had called back when she knew Miranda would be home after her late meeting and she couldn't help adding in casually to the conversation, "I heard pudding cups are now the order of the day?"
"The books say I'm supposed to increase my daily intake of calcium."
"You know you could always drink milk, right?" Andy couldn't help teasing the editor a little.
Miranda remained silent, moving the conversation on to other topics, but on the other end of the line, Andy's beam remained as she fell a little deeper in love all over a little snack cup.
The fourth day of the conference, Andy was just coming out of the bathroom after showering when she heard the faint buzz of her phone vibrating where it lay on the mattress and dove for it as she saw 'Miranda' flash across the screen. She didn't know how long it had been ringing since it had been on vibrate and the fan in the bathroom had drowned out any noise.
When she picked up the phone and held it to her ear, the last thing she expected was to hear great heaving sobs on the other end. And not simply the dramatic, hormonally induced kind precipitated by running out of ice cream, but body-shaking howls of abject misery that sent ice down Andy's spine.
"You-you're alright," Miranda choked out. "Andrea, it, th-they said, a convoy, and, and three soldiers and a journalist…going into town…IED, c-couldn't identify."
Choking sobs could be heard over the phone line despite the poor quality and interference and a stray tear rolled down Andy's cheek as she listened to Miranda cry as she realized what Miranda was talking about and what she must have heard.
A sick feeling rolled through Andy's stomach and she shut her eyes, grimacing as she remembered the details they had been given about the incident that had happened earlier that day. An armed convoy had been sent out to one of the outlying villages with food and medical supplies that were desperately needed by the people there. They were unable to get any transport in because of their location and their proximity to the fighting and so were in fairly dire straits. There had been the opportunity for several journalists to ride along and Andy had sorely wanted to go, knowing what a great story there would be there from a human rights perspective and she had so wanted to see the children and tell their story so maybe a few government bureaucrats would get their butts in gear and help put sanctions in place that would allow for access to the basic means of survival the people in the village were currently being denied. The supplies, however, didn't make it to their intended location. Thirty kilometres out from the city limits, the truck had hit a land mine, rolling the truck and causing the engine to explode, engulfing the vehicle in flames in a matter of seconds. Intended primarily for military use, the truck had bench seating, and most occupants had been thrown clear of the vehicle when it had rolled, the majority only suffering minor crush injuries and broken bones. But three of the soldiers who had been riding on the outside and one of the four journalists had been killed when the mine exploded. Andy shivered, knowing she had been so close. Not that she'd ever tell Miranda just how close she had come to being hurt, or worse, being one of the casualties.
"Baby, I'm so sorry. Shh," she soothed, "everything's alright, I'm fine and I'm coming home in a week."
"Ten years!" was the response she got from Miranda, which confused her slightly seeing as the older woman was not generally one for that kind of hyperbole.
"It might feel like that sweetheart, but I promise it's only 9 more days."
"No! Ten years, twenty, thirty have I spent not needing someone, needing anyone except my girls. And you, the moment you step into my life, the moment you stepped into my office in those god-awful clothes I have needed you!" Miranda spoke between sobs, taking deep breaths as she tried to get the words out.
"Where are you now? Are you at home?"
"The bedroom…I t-told the girls I had a headache."
"Okay, can I talk to them for a minute? And I'm fairly sure you haven't had dinner yet - "
"Andrea…"
"Nope, my turn to talk, I know you haven't had dinner yet and I know you probably don't feel like eating anything so while I talk to the girls can you go get some fruit or yogurt and one of the bottles of Ensure from the fridge ? I know you hate the taste but you need to have something in your system or you'll wake up feeling so much worse."
"Very well. I love you, Andrea, come home to us."
"I love you too, Mira, and nothing, nothing could keep me from coming home to you. I love you so much."
"What I would have done if…"
"Shh, but it didn't. I'm here and I'm alright. Now go give the phone to the girls and get some food into you."
"Alright."
"Hey guys? I need you to do a favour for me, okay?"
By the time Miranda had made her way back upstairs after forcing herself to drink most of the disgusting beverage, she was nearly numb with exhaustion, every bone in her body ached from the release of adrenaline earlier and the blood pressure medication was kicking in and making her limbs practically immovable they felt so heavy. But when she came to her door, she wasn't greeted by the sight of a cold and lonely bed. Two small redheaded lumps were hiding under the covers, giggling occasionally before shhing the other and starting the cycle all over again.
"My oh my, Carmen must not be doing her job correctly," Miranda spoke aloud, playing into their game. "What housekeeper would ever leave such dreadful lumps in the bed? I suppose I'll simply have to beat them out."
She chuckled as two little figures popped up. "Mom, it's us! We were hiding!"
Still playing along, Miranda widened her eyes innocently, "and who would plan such a thing."
"Andy did, she said she missed you so much and she wished she was here with all of us and that you needed someone to cuddle tonight too."
"So that's why we're here!" Cassidy piped up beside her sister, "and Mr. Bun, he's really good at giving hugs when you're sad."
Miranda was shaking slightly now as she quickly went through her evening routine, her heart overfull with how much she loved the young woman who had bewitched her mind, body and soul and captured the hearts of her daughters whose laughter she could hear through the bathroom door which had been so infrequent before the younger woman's entrance into their lives.
"Are you sad right now, mommy? Cuz you miss Andy?"
"I'm happy and I'm sad darling," Miranda replied, gathering both of her daughters close as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sad because Andrea is so far away and its dangerous over there, and I'm happy because I have such wonderful daughters and a wonderful family.
"The babies too? Do the babies make you happy?"
Rolling herself to the middle of the bed, Miranda nodded as she ran her fingers through the red curls that tickled the bare skin of her belly where the little girl had pushed up her nightshirt and laid her head against the bump while her sister ran a small hand back and forth over the curve.
"Yes, Bobbsey's, the babies make me very happy."
"I like our family," Cassidy declared, finishing her sentence with a wide yawn as she rested her own head against Miranda's breast, keeping her hand against Miranda's side. "G'night mom, g'nigh babies."
Part 2 up next!
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Yes, they are mine. I own them. Come to me my pretties and dance, DANCE I SAY. Or, more truthfully, not...
So after this absolutely MASSIVE (8.5k) word chapter, the plot for the story will pick up considerably. However, I did have some requests for a 'break' and for some fluff, so think of this chapter as an amalgamation of one-shots I've been playing around with alongside this story. Andy's return the twin's testimony is up next, so enjoy the feel-goods while you can! xo - H
To say Miranda was not in a good mood the day of Andy's departure was an understatement to the grossest degree. Between Irv's threats and the approaching trial where Stephen and Stephen's attorney would have full access to the twins, her nerves hinged on hairtrigger. Add in to that the knowledge that she was going to be apart from Andrea for the next 12 days and she knew she had reached new levels of intolerable. What made it worse was just how tolerant everyone was being of her abominable behaviour. Her employees, who already walked as though on glass around her, now accommodated her increasingly ridiculous demands with an almost sympathetic demeanour. This pregnancy really was ruining her image and undermining any authority she could still claim under her moniker as Miranda Priestly. Emily, Nigel and Serena however, knew the editor's mercurial behavior was due to more than just pregnancy hormones and the attentions of the press, and so gritted their teeth and prepared for the worst.
Miranda would not be accompanying Andrea to the airport, their goodbyes would be said at home away from the prying eyes and ears of the press. Besides that, Miranda had a long overdue meeting with Massimo that she couldn't justify putting off any longer - least of all so that she could see her lover off on a weeklong business trip, even if courting and charming the photographer was the last thing she wanted to do. But very rarely, she sulked to herself as she waited for the man to be shown in, did Miranda Priestly actually get to do what she wanted.
'What she wanted' was currently waiting in the executive lounge of JFK despite the fact she was flying coach, courtesy of the Turkish airlines check-in attendant. Miranda had insisted on upgrading Andy's ticket but the younger woman had refused with a gentle reminder that Miranda had promised not to interfere with her job. Even a clever show of tears hadn't been successful in changing the journalist's mind and Miranda had relegated herself to an evening of sulking as she watched Andy pack the last of her things into the two ratty suitcases that had been staring her in the face, mocking her for the last week as they'd sat across from the bed, a reminder that she would be sleeping in that bed alone while the younger woman was gone.
Still, her ability to remain angry with the brunette failed her in the end, and she'd moved immediately into the arms that reached out for her as the young woman finally climbed into bed that evening, knowing it was likely the last good night's sleep she would have until Andrea's return. Yet another point of weakness she hadn't counted on when their relationship began. She recalled her stiff words to Andrea when she had stated her desire for and intention of sleeping alone, displacing Andrea to claim the guest room as a secondary sleeping area. How wrong she'd been. There hadn't been a single night where Miranda had found she preferred not to be in the brunette's arms. For ages she would tell anyone that in most cases, she preferred to be alone, however her relationship with Andrea had changed all that - changed her in ways she never would have expected. Any discomforts, be it from the pregnancy or stemming from her own mind as was the wont of La Priestly, never outmatched her desire for Andrea's presence or her touch. When they had slept apart, it had only ever been during a fight or due to hospital restrictions, and in both cases, both women found the experience to be torture.
Andy had been sleeping with a body pillow for the last week in preparation for the trip and Miranda had extremely reluctantly agreed to its use as a substitute although it was anything but. And it was with a high degree of reticence and an increasing feeling of ridiculousness that she stared down at her new 'bed-mate', scowling at it and inwardly blaming it for not being Andrea.
"I am not sleeping with that thing, Andrea. You aren't leaving for several days."
"I know," the brunette flopped down on the bed. "But you have to get used to sleeping with it before I leave or you'll never use it while I'm gone…and then I'll be the one lying awake and miserable because I'll be thinking of you here, alone and uncomfortable."
"Oh, all right," Miranda huffed, uncrossing her arms and letting Andrea lay the silly thing between them in bed, arranging it so that it supported Miranda's body like Andy's did when they were sleeping.
"How's that?" Andy curled her own body around the pillow so that she was still able to reach the editor.
Miranda admitted the white monstrosity did something, at the very least, to take the pressure off of her spine, and in agreeing to its use while Andy was away, managed to get her way in not using it that night and having the younger woman's delicious, warm weight pressed against her.
"You think you've won, haven't you Priestly?" Andy whispered into a pale, pink ear as they both fell asleep. But although she hadn't yet succumbed to the tempting call of unconsciousness, Miranda stayed silent, the silence telling as she simply laid her head against Andrea's chest, sighing softly as she finally let herself claim sleep with the comforting weight of the younger woman's arm settled protectively over her waist.
"Sweet talker," was the final murmur heard in the room as Andy rested her own cheek against soft white hair that moved gently with her deepening breath as she too drifted off with the bone-deep sense of rightness and contentment that came with being next to the one you loved.
The next few nights before Andy's trip passed in a similar fashion, which led to where they both were now…without each other and disliking it immensely.
Andy checked her ticket for the millionth time and wondered if it was time yet to leave the exclusive members-only lounge. The paparazzi had been waiting for her early this morning and she'd secretly been glad she had let Miranda have her way in insisting on Andy's having Roy drive her to the airport. Not that Miranda normally didn't get her way, Andy snorted as she thought back, but the older woman had been reasonable in allowing Andy to make her own decisions when it came to her career and her job and this trip, even if she was the one who had insisted on the younger woman taking it in the first place. Andy knew, however, that the older woman's insistence was because she knew how much Andy secretly wanted this opportunity and she was willing to sacrifice her own comfort to make sure she took it.
Andy boarded the plane amidst a cacophony of voices speaking Arabic, among some serious or silent, most were chatty, laughing, all apparently happy or excited to be going home or visiting family and all Andy could think of how this plane was taking her away from her family rather than to them. Butterflies flooded her stomach, but she couldn't tell if it was anxiety over leaving her own family or excitement or nervousness about the trip. In either case, what she wanted most of all was to have Miranda by her side. It seemed she was always bravest when she was around the editor and she could use that bravery and Miranda's ever-steadying presence as the jet's engines rumbled beneath her in preparation for takeoff. And although she was eager to prove herself as a journalist and a 'newbie' on the team with this trip, she also found herself counting down the days, if not minutes, until she had the love of her life back in her arms and all her babies under one roof.
Miles away, on the 17th floor of an office building, a figure stood alone, silhouetted against the floor to ceiling windows through which she stared in deep and silent contemplation. Her hand ran absently over the steep curve of her abdomen in a half-hearted attempt to soothe its fractious occupants seemingly reacting to one mother's absence as well as their other mother's turmoil over it - although who by all appearances appeared calm and collected.
A quick glance at the slim, gold Cartier watch on her wrist told Miranda that in moments, she and the one her heart already ached for would no longer share the same ground.
The second round of wardrobe fittings were not going as smoothly as the first, and that was saying something given that the last time resulted in Miranda barring two major design houses from entering the maternity market for 2 years.
"This is atrocious" Miranda seethed, fixing her glare on an unfortunately located Nigel. "Please tell me this isn't all we have and this is my entire staff's idea of some colossal joke?" Nigel sighed, running a hand over his head, God he wished Andy weren't ten thousand feet in the air at the moment - both for Miranda's sake as well as his own. In addition to the younger woman's absence being the primary reason for the editor's ire, she was also the only one who could talk Miranda down when she was this tightly wound. Sickeningly sweet, she would tell Miranda how beautiful she was as she moved the offending clothes rack aside, her hands going to the editor's bump magnetically, and would go on to sweet talk and cajole the unhappy woman into at least a state of resigned sullenness rather than a state of apoplexy.
"Furthermore, is it too much to ask that design be taken into consideration in the planning of these garments? How ever am I supposed to reach the zipper in my current state?" She flicked a hand in disgust at the three full to bursting, discarded racks bearing clothing that had been deemed from unsatisfactory to requiring immediate conflagration.
"Miranda," Nigel held up a hand beseechingly, making sure he kept eye contact with the older woman so that she didn't misinterpret his interruption. But then he switched veins entirely…
"What time is Andy supposed to get in?"
Miranda sniffed, shifting her gaze from Nigel's, appearing to rifle through one of the racks with a distinct air of indifference. "The flight was to have landed an hour ago, however I've been told customs over there is a nightmare and then she has to drive into the city in some godforsaken cab provided she can find one that's unoccupied." Miranda shuddered inwardly at the thought of her Andrea in some sweaty, smelly taxi trying to explain the directions she'd been given to the foreign driver.
"Miranda, I could walk outside right now and that would be the case for half the cabs in Manhattan!" Andy had laughingly responded. But Miranda hadn't found it funny in the slightest. "Which is why I insist on Roy driving you," she had added tartly.
It was that casual and heated repartee that she missed along with so many other factors.
"I'm sure she'll call soon, Miranda." Nigel offered kindly.
"Did I say she wouldn't?" Miranda snapped, directing her focus once more to the racks of what would doubtlessly be further disappointments. "I don't know know why we're talking about this anyway. Now is there something in this disappointing mess that doesn't magnify the effect this pregnancy has had on my hips?"
Nigel wanted to say something about how wonderful she looked, and how well she wore the mantle of maternity despite the many health concerns that had come with it, but he held his tongue lest it be ripped out by 'La Priestly' who was out in full force at the moment. There was a new radiance and softness to her features he didn't know whether to attribute to the pregnancy or to Andrea and the effects of being 'in love' for the first real time in her life.
"Let's see," he mused, rifling through the racks and praying for a miracle as he eyed the colourful collection of fabrics and textures, finally settling on a periwinkle blue number from Lanvin which he paired with a dangerous pair of teetering nude spikes from Stuart Weitzman knowing the older woman wouldn't be moving around over much. "Here, try this one."
Miranda raised an eyebrow. "I thought of all people you would know I rarely wear pastels," she drawled slowly, appraising the silk blend with a practiced eye above which quirked up a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Nigel shrugged casually, although on the inside his gut was churning at the risk he was taking. "Trust me on this one, besides what have you got to lose? Everything else has been a disaster…"
"Which is precisely why you had better hope this doesn't prove a further waste of my time," Miranda bit back acerbically, plucking the garment hanger from the nervously sweating art director's outstretched arm and disappearing behind the curtain of the makeshift dressing room in The Closet. Following a hissy fit by one of the models last week that had resulted in the heel of a Jimmy Choo piercing the dressing room mirror, shattering both the mirror and her career in the process, Miranda was therefore unable to view the outfits on herself prior to exiting the stall. All she had to go on was the first reaction of whoever was standing outside.
A pale hand parted the black drapery and Nigel gasped audibly, simultaneously cheering himself on in his head before remembering to shut his mouth which gaped open as the editor emerged. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he was looking at Miranda ten years ago when she'd been pregnant with the twins, the first set that is.
Eyes a deep rich blue, flashed up at him, sparkling brilliantly as they questioned his dramatic response to her entrance. Pale skin glowed against the fabric where it parted against her curves, luminous wherever the light touched it erasing any lines or wrinkles. Cheeks flushed rosy and with health led to a delicately arched mouth that no one would have ever guessed could be so cutting and acerbic were they seeing it for the first time.
As for the dress itself, it dipped in a low V to lie against full, firm breasts - the creamy swells heavy in anticipation for the coming infants but that still pushed up and outwards enticingly against the neckline and that beckoned anyone who viewed them closer with an almost primal effect.
The fabric, twisting once to cross under her breasts, grew tighter, dispersing with the loose folds and draping as the eye travelled down, highlighting the brief pause between her breasts and abdomen that remained as testament to the smallness of her frame and figure when not expecting before blooming outwards, the ruched fabric a close caress over the dramatic curve of her stomach outlining her gravid state clearly but not crudely or extravagantly. Relaxing once more in structure, the muted sheen of the silk flowed downwards over Miranda's body from her hips only to be drawn up once more at the knees, crossing over in a wrap-like fashion so that the merest glimpse of creamy, white inner thigh could be seen when she moved in just the right way.
"Miranda," Nigel breathed, forgetting once more to keep his mouth closed, "My God, you're stunning."
"Nigel, really," Miranda scoffed, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve in an excuse to touch the buttery soft fabric.
Nigel raised his hand. "On my mother's grave, Miranda."
"I don't see what all the fuss could possibly be about."
He stepped away so that Miranda could see the mirror. Outwardly, the editor's expression didn't change, and she regarded herself with an air of careful scrutiny but no real interest. Nigel, however, had years of experience 'dressing' Miranda. Dear God, he must have undressed her more times that her husbands had, something he teased her about on the rare occasions they had found time and he had coaxed her out for a drink and they'd both gotten hammered - well, at least as hammered as Miranda could get that he'd seen. He didn't know what the brunette's influence would be were Miranda not pregnant and therefore unable to imbibe. Other than Andy though, Nigel was the one person who could generally seem to navigate with any consistency, the editor's mercurial moods and as a result he had become somewhat of an expert at deciphering the visual cues the older woman gave, even unwillingly. Hell, he was the one who had taught Andy in the first place. He recalled instructing the forlorn new assistant in the 'art' of Miranda, explaining the significance of a nod and the nuances and subtleties put out with the pursing of lips. Now the student had become the teacher. Regardless, Nigel could tell by the way the corners of her eyes lifted, pupils dilating to clear azure and the tips of her ears turning pink that she was pleased with what she saw and he breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the older woman smooth her hands down the sides of the dress, turning to see her silhouette from multiple angles and deeming the result to be satisfactory.
And there it was, Nigel tried to hide his grin, a nod…
"Passable," Miranda decreed, an elegant hand reaching behind her back to slide down the zipper.
"Finally, a designer who is capable of understanding the form of a human body and not just simply heaving forward a tasteless mass of fabric with armholes or a crude casing similar to what one might find enrobing deli meats."
Nigel snorted at 'Miranda-speak' for referring to looking like a stuffed sausage, but he carefully schooled his features back into a suitable expression of professional interest as Miranda caught his gaze before disappearing back behind the curtain.
"Miranda, I don't believe that piece will need any alterations, shall I add it to the rack of 'yeses'?"
"No."
Nigel was surprised to hear the cool tones respond.
"Send it directly to the townhouse with the Book & the rest of the dry cleaning tonight, tell Emily." She referred to her newest assistant who the real Emily was training with militaristic precision following the last fiasco with Stacy and her release of sensitive documents to Irv for use against her to the Board.
He smiled to himself as he zipped the garment bag, remembering how it had looked on the editor. That…that was why he did what he did.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, a young journalist staggered through the door of her hotel room, never more glad she hadn't brought the Louis Vuitton as her cases fell with a muted thump on the carpet, sending up a faint haze of dust as they did. The chalky red dust seemed to settle in every crack and crevice it touched, including those on her body, Andy noted, as she grimaced at her reflection and the sweat lines that streaked red like blood on her neck and chest. She didn't have time to shower however, it had taken so long to get to the hotel from the airport that she barely had time to pull her laptop out of her messenger bag and connect to the tenuous wifi signal before she was greeted by the welcome sight of two almost-identical faces grinning back at her.
Likewise, at the kitchen table in the townhouse, the brunette's face suddenly appeared on the screen.
"Andy!"
"Hey munchkins, how's it going?"
"Okay, I guess. It's weird not having you here."
"Yeah," Cassidy agreed.
"I miss you guys too, and the conference hasn't even started yet! I haven't even showered since I left New York!" Andy's voice raised in pitch dramatically and it had the desired effect as both girls burst out giggling at her theatrics.
"I wanted to talk to you guys and see your faces before anything else. Where's Miranda?"
Caroline and Cassidy exchanged a quick glance. "She's not home yet."
Andy did the math quickly in her head and full lips twisted in an unamused grimace as she realized it was seven o'clock in New York, and Miranda had promised to try to be home by 5 or 6 each night. As if on command, however, the creak of the front door could be heard and the woman in question came into view; her heels already slipped off and her shoulders slumped slightly as she pressed a hand to her back and rubbed the underside of her belly after she had unbuttoned her jacket.
At the sight of the younger woman's face on the monitor, the editor's tired features lit up and the spark returned to her eyes that melted from icy grey to Andy's favourite shade of blue. Once again, Andy was hit with the realization of how much she loved this woman, and judging by how fast her heart was beating inside her chest, it seemed her entire being was crying out for the other woman's touch. She grinned, her heart still fluttering madly as the editor moved closer and into the light.
"Hey beautiful."
As expected, the editor's face registered shock for a moment as though she couldn't quite believe the younger woman thought of her as such before flushing a charming shade of pink that spread down her neck and, as Andy had firsthand knowledge, down the rest of her body as well.
"Are they giving you any trouble?" Andy nodded her head towards Miranda's belly, which she kept one hand clasped to as she lowered herself onto the kitchen chair Caroline had just vacated.
Miranda looked affronted. "Of course not! Our children have been perfect angels." She sniffed and straightened her back before wincing slightly as a twinge in her side caused a catch in her breath. "My body, however, is not as cooperative."
"Oh honey, I wish I was there to help." The brunette's lips pouted in a sad moue. "After you eat something - because I know you haven't yet - try a warm bath and see if that works out the knots, okay? And if it doesn't I want you to call, or have Emily call the physiotherapist to schedule you in for tomorrow.
"Andrea, I don't have time -"
"Half an hour. Half an hour for me."
"I-oh alright…"
"Thank you."
"Could you guys stop the mushfest? We still have to eat too you know!"
Andy laughed and Miranda shook her head, chuckling wryly.
"Why don't you see what Carmen's left for you & set the table. Gimme five minutes with your mom & then I'll let her go."
"Andyyy, we'll starve!"
"Go on, off with you, you wretches," Miranda left the kitchen and wandered into the living room where she set the laptop down on the low coffee table in front of the couch.
"So how was today?"
"Awful", Miranda replied, sitting down with a 'hmph' that preceded a barely audible groan as she twisted her shoulders one way and the other. "Five pieces were lost in transit so we only had a third of what we needed for the shoot. Runway is going to have to start compensating or recompensating the smaller designers to use insured methods of shipping. Irv will have a cow, it's just what I need."
"Urgh, can we not talk about him when I'm not there to hypothetically kick his ass?"
Slipping the elastic waistband of her Donna Karan maternity skirt lower on her hips, Miranda heard the peal of Andrea's bell-like laughter cause the laptop speaker to crackle and knew she'd been caught. She ignored this however and simply continued to arrange herself more comfortably on the couch knowing she was in Andrea's full view. She smirked, watching the brunette's gaze rove downwards along the length of her body as she stretched her legs out on the sofa and she smirked, flexing one calf and causing her skirt to ride up further and slipping her toes beneath the cushion at the far end so they were out of the brunette's sight.
"You're dying to get a look at my feet aren't you," Miranda accused wryly, lacing her fingers over her exaggerated waistline and rubbing her abdomen in long, smooth strokes as she sought to unwind from the long day.
"Jeez, Miranda, you make me sound like a pervert," Andy complained, sitting back on her heels on the bed. "You tell me I'm not allowed to ask you how you're feeling, so needs must I have to resort to secondary methods of retrieving information if you're not going to show me your feet aren't swollen from your shoes and your blood pressure," she pointed out accusatorily, her lips breaking into a grin despite herself at the impossible-ness of her lover.
"And for teasing, you owe me a freebie. So tell me honestly, how are you feeling? Any dizziness or headaches today while you were dealing with the missing clothes? And is what's-her-name, Tara, the new assistant, remembering to keep the Pellegrino on your desk refilled?"
"Fine, no, and yes - I've had 6 glasses today and I'll likely have another two before retiring this evening."
Andy sucked her bottom lip into her mouth looking slightly shamefaced. "Okay, I'm sorry, I just wish I were there, in person. I miss you," the brunette's lips turned downwards in a frown and Miranda found herself wanting to nip the much-abused bottom lips, sucking it back out and teasing it until it was no longer pulled into a frown.
"I know, it's sappy…"
Miranda drew her mind back to the conversation with a sigh, knowing her desires were impossible. However, Andy took her sigh as an agreement to her last comment.
"You're right, I'm sorry, I'm holding on too tight, I'll back off…"
'Wait, what?' Miranda's eidetic mind skipped back in the conversation and realized what Andrea must be thinking. She didn't want the younger woman to back off, rather that was her fear as the journalist stretched her wings surrounded by the exotic sights, sounds and experiences of the foreign country she was in. In fact, she feared Andrea would realize just how much she enjoyed this aspect of her job and realize how much of her freedom she had sacrificed when she had accepted Miranda's ring.
But despite the excitement of the international conference, the younger woman made sure to 'call' the townhouse every evening to check in on 'her girls', even if 'the girls' themselves weren't always on time themselves.
"Miss Andy, the girls just went upstairs to get changed. They'll be down in a moment."
"Thanks Carmen. Oh! While I have you here, how's the meal plan been going? Is Miranda following what Dr. Jansen suggested?"
"I cook it just like you say according to the doctor's note, but she does not eat enough, Miss Andy. Only when it is something she is craving. Then it is unbelievable what one tiny woman can put away with the two babies in her belly. Two days ago she went through six pudding cups. I'd only gone shopping the day before and we were already out again when she was looking for them yesterday."
Andy burst out laughing as she imagined the editor sneaking into the kitchen and being caught surrounded by the empty plastic pots in equal, anal-retentive order of chocolate and vanilla flavors.
"Andy, you should have seen her face when she realized we'd run out of the pudding cups. You would have thought someone died. That only lasted for a moment though before I was sent back out by Ms. Miranda to buy more 'so we would have enough for the girls' lunches'. Do you know how long that trip takes during rush hour? I made sure to buy enough to feed an army. Downstairs now in the pantry, there are twelve packages of 6. And of course it has to be an even number of vanilla and chocolate, ay dios mio." The older woman exclaimed, but Andy knew from the way she spoke that she didn't mind in the slightest, like Andy she was only concerned that the editor was eating enough and getting all the vitamins she needed to keep her and the babies healthy.
Later that night, Andy had called back when she knew Miranda would be home after her late meeting and she couldn't help adding in casually to the conversation, "I heard pudding cups are now the order of the day?"
"The books say I'm supposed to increase my daily intake of calcium."
"You know you could always drink milk, right?" Andy couldn't help teasing the editor a little.
Miranda remained silent, moving the conversation on to other topics, but on the other end of the line, Andy's beam remained as she fell a little deeper in love all over a little snack cup.
The fourth day of the conference, Andy was just coming out of the bathroom after showering when she heard the faint buzz of her phone vibrating where it lay on the mattress and dove for it as she saw 'Miranda' flash across the screen. She didn't know how long it had been ringing since it had been on vibrate and the fan in the bathroom had drowned out any noise.
When she picked up the phone and held it to her ear, the last thing she expected was to hear great heaving sobs on the other end. And not simply the dramatic, hormonally induced kind precipitated by running out of ice cream, but body-shaking howls of abject misery that sent ice down Andy's spine.
"You-you're alright," Miranda choked out. "Andrea, it, th-they said, a convoy, and, and three soldiers and a journalist…going into town…IED, c-couldn't identify."
Choking sobs could be heard over the phone line despite the poor quality and interference and a stray tear rolled down Andy's cheek as she listened to Miranda cry as she realized what Miranda was talking about and what she must have heard.
A sick feeling rolled through Andy's stomach and she shut her eyes, grimacing as she remembered the details they had been given about the incident that had happened earlier that day. An armed convoy had been sent out to one of the outlying villages with food and medical supplies that were desperately needed by the people there. They were unable to get any transport in because of their location and their proximity to the fighting and so were in fairly dire straits. There had been the opportunity for several journalists to ride along and Andy had sorely wanted to go, knowing what a great story there would be there from a human rights perspective and she had so wanted to see the children and tell their story so maybe a few government bureaucrats would get their butts in gear and help put sanctions in place that would allow for access to the basic means of survival the people in the village were currently being denied. The supplies, however, didn't make it to their intended location. Thirty kilometres out from the city limits, the truck had hit a land mine, rolling the truck and causing the engine to explode, engulfing the vehicle in flames in a matter of seconds. Intended primarily for military use, the truck had bench seating, and most occupants had been thrown clear of the vehicle when it had rolled, the majority only suffering minor crush injuries and broken bones. But three of the soldiers who had been riding on the outside and one of the four journalists had been killed when the mine exploded. Andy shivered, knowing she had been so close. Not that she'd ever tell Miranda just how close she had come to being hurt, or worse, being one of the casualties.
"Baby, I'm so sorry. Shh," she soothed, "everything's alright, I'm fine and I'm coming home in a week."
"Ten years!" was the response she got from Miranda, which confused her slightly seeing as the older woman was not generally one for that kind of hyperbole.
"It might feel like that sweetheart, but I promise it's only 9 more days."
"No! Ten years, twenty, thirty have I spent not needing someone, needing anyone except my girls. And you, the moment you step into my life, the moment you stepped into my office in those god-awful clothes I have needed you!" Miranda spoke between sobs, taking deep breaths as she tried to get the words out.
"Where are you now? Are you at home?"
"The bedroom…I t-told the girls I had a headache."
"Okay, can I talk to them for a minute? And I'm fairly sure you haven't had dinner yet - "
"Andrea…"
"Nope, my turn to talk, I know you haven't had dinner yet and I know you probably don't feel like eating anything so while I talk to the girls can you go get some fruit or yogurt and one of the bottles of Ensure from the fridge ? I know you hate the taste but you need to have something in your system or you'll wake up feeling so much worse."
"Very well. I love you, Andrea, come home to us."
"I love you too, Mira, and nothing, nothing could keep me from coming home to you. I love you so much."
"What I would have done if…"
"Shh, but it didn't. I'm here and I'm alright. Now go give the phone to the girls and get some food into you."
"Alright."
"Hey guys? I need you to do a favour for me, okay?"
By the time Miranda had made her way back upstairs after forcing herself to drink most of the disgusting beverage, she was nearly numb with exhaustion, every bone in her body ached from the release of adrenaline earlier and the blood pressure medication was kicking in and making her limbs practically immovable they felt so heavy. But when she came to her door, she wasn't greeted by the sight of a cold and lonely bed. Two small redheaded lumps were hiding under the covers, giggling occasionally before shhing the other and starting the cycle all over again.
"My oh my, Carmen must not be doing her job correctly," Miranda spoke aloud, playing into their game. "What housekeeper would ever leave such dreadful lumps in the bed? I suppose I'll simply have to beat them out."
She chuckled as two little figures popped up. "Mom, it's us! We were hiding!"
Still playing along, Miranda widened her eyes innocently, "and who would plan such a thing."
"Andy did, she said she missed you so much and she wished she was here with all of us and that you needed someone to cuddle tonight too."
"So that's why we're here!" Cassidy piped up beside her sister, "and Mr. Bun, he's really good at giving hugs when you're sad."
Miranda was shaking slightly now as she quickly went through her evening routine, her heart overfull with how much she loved the young woman who had bewitched her mind, body and soul and captured the hearts of her daughters whose laughter she could hear through the bathroom door which had been so infrequent before the younger woman's entrance into their lives.
"Are you sad right now, mommy? Cuz you miss Andy?"
"I'm happy and I'm sad darling," Miranda replied, gathering both of her daughters close as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sad because Andrea is so far away and its dangerous over there, and I'm happy because I have such wonderful daughters and a wonderful family.
"The babies too? Do the babies make you happy?"
Rolling herself to the middle of the bed, Miranda nodded as she ran her fingers through the red curls that tickled the bare skin of her belly where the little girl had pushed up her nightshirt and laid her head against the bump while her sister ran a small hand back and forth over the curve.
"Yes, Bobbsey's, the babies make me very happy."
"I like our family," Cassidy declared, finishing her sentence with a wide yawn as she rested her own head against Miranda's breast, keeping her hand against Miranda's side. "G'night mom, g'nigh babies."
Part 2 up next!