New fic: Lucky (aka The Reveal), Part I, Andy/Miranda, DWP
Title: Lucky (aka The Reveal)
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: PG-13
Summary: the last installment of the Sick Day series, following Step Up.
Notes: thanks as always to my beta, Xander, and all the folks who have praised this series over the past eight months. I appreciate the support! Last but not least, many thanks to pin_drop , whose prompt (laryngitis) started the ball rolling.
Happy holidays to all. Hope your days are merry and bright!
---
Andy hates making the short walk to Nigel’s office, but she knows she has to get it over with. She’s been thinking a lot about his reaction; their relationship isn’t strained, but it’s focused only on work these days. It’s been this way for a while. No single thing changed between them, but after he confronted her about her “affair” with Lucien, she started feeling different about him. Not long after that, whatever curiosity he may have harbored about her personal life vanished.
What's worse is that her departure may end their friendship. Not because she’s leaving, but because of Miranda. She recalls the early days of wanting desperately to share her feelings for Miranda with him, believing only he would understand just how amazing her lover is. After a while, she stopped wanting to tell him, and became far more focused on hiding. Though it was tough to admit, she started seeing Nigel as a threat. Not to her, but to Miranda. She stopped trusting him to protect either of them. She realizes why this is; he might owe some degree of success in his career to Miranda, but he feels very much under her thumb. Andy is certain that he’s still smarting over Miranda’s coup a couple of years ago over Irv. No matter that the James Holt company didn’t get very far off the ground before it struggled; this past season they didn’t submit a spring collection due to financial trouble. Like so many design houses, they are suffering from the far-reaching implications of the Wall Street collapse.
Nigel is no fool. He knows that Miranda inadvertently saved his ass, even though no one in his right mind would consider it a favor. Jacqueline Follet faltered and was fired after an eight month stint at James Holt International; the company has since gone through two creative directors, and Miranda recently hinted that they might be looking for a buyout. It’s horrible. James has always been an innovative, exceptional designer, but his timing couldn’t have been worse to go global. Nigel would have been on that roller coaster. Could he have saved the day? Miranda doubts it, and as much as it pains her, Andy agrees, though she’s never told Miranda this.
Some things just don’t need to be spoken aloud.
At Nigel’s door, Andy straightens her navy suit jacket and knocks on the door. “Come in,” he croons, and when she walks inside, he’s leaning over the lightbox in the corner of his office. Glancing up, he smiles. “Hey, Andy. What problem can I solve for you today?”
Andy’s heart starts to thump wildly. “Well, it’s not exactly a problem. It’s more like news.”
He blinks. “You’re pregnant.”
Andy bursts out laughing. Some of her tension drains away; that was a completely unexpected guess. “No,” she manages through her giggles, “Not at all. Not even close.”
Nigel exhales. “Thank god. I couldn’t bear to lose you for an extended maternity leave.” He leans back on the stool and motions for her to take a seat. “Talk to me, dearie. Tell me the news.”
Her anxiety returns at mention of maternity leave. She takes a shallow breath and begins. “I’m leaving.”
She lets the news sink in. Nigel’s mouth actually drops. He looks so silly that Andy almost laughs; her nerves have not cooled off now that she’s said it. “What?” he finally says.
“To Vanity Fair. Associate copy editor. I start in two and a half weeks.”
Nigel exhales, almost deflates. “I want to say ‘you’re joking,’ but you’re not. I just don’t want to believe it.”
“You’ll barely miss me--”
“Oh stop. You know you do the job of someone well above your current title with no complaints. I don’t want to hear about how we’ll be fine without you. We will, but it’s going to be a pain in the ass to replace you.” He sighs melodramatically. “And we all know how I like to make everything about me, don’t we. So in an effort to correct that behavior, I suppose I’m forced to say ‘Congratulations’ and ‘good job,’ right?”
Andy shrugs her shoulders. “That would be okay.”
“Congratulations, Six. It couldn’t happen to a nicer girl.” He stands from his stool and Andy pushes up out of her chair to embrace him. “I’m thrilled for you. Gutted, mind you, but thrilled.”
“I appreciate it, Nigel. Really.”
“Now, sit down and tell me how it all happened.”
Andy squeezes his hand and sits again, while he takes the chair across from her. As she relates the whole story, it feels like old times for a few minutes. Nigel chuckles in all the right places, and coos as she describes what it was like to sit with the managing editor for an interview even though it’s only an associate position. He approves of her negotiation skills and ends up applauding as she describes the feeling of satisfaction of sending back her signed offer letter.
“It’s a new feeling, isn’t it. Not the same as getting a promotion where you already work.”
Andy nods, and knows he’s probably thinking about the day he accepted the job at James Holt. “It’s different. I didn’t sign anything when I started as an assistant except an NDA and health insurance forms. And I certainly didn’t negotiate salary. A job was a job, and that was enough.”
“I remember that day, very clearly,” he says, smiling. “That horrible tan jacket. And those shoes. You were adorable.”
“I doubt you called me that then.”
“Maybe. You’ve come a long way, baby. And so have your eyebrows.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the ones who might look out for a new job for me at another magazine, were the opportunity to arise.”
The hair on the back of Andy’s neck rises; out of nowhere, she is in treacherous waters. “Well, Vanity Fair doesn’t exactly seem like your genre,” she jokes, her tone light.
“No, but Vogue is. I know everyone over there, but you might hear something before I do. Conde is a little universe all its own, honey.” He polishes his glasses, his attempt at nonchalance unconvincing. “Just keep your ear to the ground, okay?”
“Sure, I will. Always.” She files this information away to consider at another time; it’s not a surprise, but it remains discomfiting to be privy to information that people wouldn’t want Miranda to hear. “Anyway, I’m going two weeks from today, so I’ll have a couple of days to play before I start.”
“Good for you! But more importantly, what the hell are we doing to send you off?”
Andy’s heart picks up its pace again; she and Miranda have been talking about just that. “I just thought about going to dinner. Maybe a club afterward. Nothing special.”
He considers the idea. “It’s a little boring. But it’s not like you’re leaving town, so we can’t do anything too decadent. Wouldn’t want any of us to make it into the papers just as you’re starting a new gig.”
Andy feels heat rising in her cheeks; she laughs to distract Nigel from the fact that she’s blushing. She and Miranda will undoubtedly be “in the papers” just as she’s starting her new gig. She gave fair warning to her new boss that she would shortly be going public with a relationship with a high-profile individual from the fashion world. Anna had assured her that it didn’t matter. As long as the person wasn’t from a competitor, there was no conflict of interest, and even then there was room to maneuver. Andy had waffled over confessing the identity of her significant other, wondering how much trouble it would cause in the office during her first weeks. But it’s too late now; she’d kept her mouth shut, so she has to take what comes.
They make small talk for a few more minutes, and thankfully Nigel never asks about Andy’s love life. They make plans to have a lunch before her last day, and he insists on helping plan her farewell dinner. When she finally heads out, she goes directly to Jocelyn’s office to share the news. With her, Andy feels no anxiety. Jocelyn is a friend, as much as she is a work colleague. Her door is open, and though she looks busy, Andy decides now’s as good a time as any. She closes the door and breaks the news-her reaction is the opposite of Nigel’s. She lets out a little cheer and throws her arms around Andy, truly overjoyed.
“I can’t believe it! My god, didn’t you only just start looking?”
Andy nods. “Lucien got me an interview. I really have him to thank.”
Jocelyn grins. “And Miranda had nothing to do with it. Well done. I’d hoped for you-I know how hard it’s been to keep things under wraps.” Jocelyn looks around, her voice low. Andy chuckles; Jocelyn is hypervigilant about Andy’s privacy, even in her own office. “What does Miranda say?”
“She’s really happy.” And proud, Andy reminds herself with a little frisson of pleasure. She takes a deep breath. “We’re going public.”
Jocelyn’s eyes grow wide. She shakes her head. “Are you nervous?”
“Yup, but we’re both done with hiding. I can’t wait for it to be over, honestly.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We’re not a hundred percent sure,” Andy replies. “But we’ll probably do something, go out somewhere after my last day. Make a public appearance, you know? We’re not having a press conference, but figured if we show up somewhere and have a romantic dinner, someone will notice.” She winces. “They’d better figure it out, though. Neither of us is much for public displays of affection. I might be able to convince her to hold my hand for a minute or two for the paparazzi.”
Jocelyn nods sagely. “That should be enough.” With a shiver, she adds, “I still can’t get over it. Although I’ve never seen you and Miranda outside work, so it’s hard for me to imagine what you’re like together.”
Andy can understand. She’s told Jocelyn about many kind things that Miranda does for her, but it’s nearly impossible to relate that person to the one who rules the magazine with such power and presence. Runway Miranda is steel to the core, while Andy’s Miranda has a hard shell that masks a deliciously mushy center. That mush was on display when flowers arrived on her desk today, delivered by courier. The card read, “Congratulations, from your sweetheart.”
Andy easily recognized the writing as Miranda’s. Which meant she’d gone to a florist, picked out a bouquet, and ordered them in person. Such a simple thing warmed her heart. It made her even more excited to show her affection to the world after so much concealment.
Jocelyn waves her hand in front of Andy’s eyes. “Earth to Andy. Are you still in there?”
“Sorry,” Andy replies sheepishly. “Just thinking. Um, you were saying?”
“I wanted to know when you start the new job.”
Andy tells her, and invites her to her farewell dinner, wherever it might be. With that, her main two tasks for the day are complete, and she returns to her desk to do some actual work.
---
A week later, everyone at Runway knows that Andy is leaving. She’s planned a dinner at Triomphe, a few blocks away from the office. Reservations are made, and she’s counting the days. Not that work hasn’t been enjoyable; she’s leaving, so no one’s handing her any long-term projects. She’s still putting in long hours, but today she finished her final edit to an article that was subsequently approved, so the rest of her days should be cake.
Tonight she snuggles next to Miranda, tired but content. Miranda, on the other hand, is restless. She usually lets Andy drape herself across her body, or they spoon, but not tonight. She’s tossed and turned for the last fifteen minutes. Finally, Andy caves.
“Honey,” she says softly, and Miranda starts. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing wrong,” Miranda huffs. This is a lie, Andy is sure. “I’m fine.”
Andy waits. She watches the faint outline of Miranda’s elegant profile in the near darkness, tracing her way down her nose with one finger. She moves to rub at Miranda's temples, coaxing a moan out of her. Seconds pass, utterly silent.
“Oh, fine. I think I should come to your farewell dinner.” Andy stills her hand. “I’m going to come, I’ve decided. I deserve to be there. I want to be there. All right?”
Andy’s breath leaves her in a rush. “Oh,” she replies, speechless. “Um, okay.”
Mind in a whirl, Andy tries to focus, but this is the last thing she expected. “Are you sure you… want to come out in front of everybody?”
“For god’s sake, we’re not going to have sex on the floor of the restaurant. Or on the dinner table,” she adds for good measure. “I’ll just be there. That should say it all. Someone will leak it to the press. Count on it.” Miranda turns over and faces Andy, leaning over her to snap on the bedside lamp. “Is this a terrible idea?”
Andy’s relieved; the question means there’s some room for negotiation. “I don’t know. It’s unexpected. Can I think it over?”
After a pause, Miranda nods once. “Don’t make me wait long.”
“I won’t, I promise.” Andy means it. This is huge for Miranda. It seems more frightening than just being out in public. On top of everything, Nigel will be there, and who knows how he’ll react. Andy was hoping not to witness his expression when he realizes that Andy’s been screwing the boss, right under everyone’s noses.
Andy shuts off the light, and Miranda pulls Andy’s arm across her waist. They cuddle together, and less than five minutes later, Miranda’s hand starts twitching the way it always does when she falls asleep.
Andy is not so lucky. She lies awake for an hour, then two, going over things in her mind. The right decision eludes her, then again, how should she know the right decision? Maybe it’s appropriate that the Runway crowd will be the first to know; they’re Andy’s friends, if not Miranda’s. At least now they’ll realize where Andy’s been running off to when she’s skipped out on drinks after work.
In fact, as she considers it, she imagines it might be kind of fun. A parting shot. It will certainly cause some drama at the office on Thursday. Andy almost wishes she could be there. Maybe they should have the party on Tuesday night, the night before Andy’s last day. She chuckles, and Miranda stirs next to her.
“Hmm?” Miranda says.
“Let’s do it.”
There’s a silence. “You wanna have sex?” Miranda slurs. She’s barely awake.
Andy laughs again. “No, I want you to come to my going away party.”
“Oh.” She hears Miranda swallow, nudging her head against Andy’s. “Good.”
Andy settles back against the pillow, Miranda’s breath warm against her neck. Decision made, she relaxes, and soon after, she sleeps.
---
Andy makes plans to have a fantastic last day. She schedules nothing but a lunch with Jocelyn and an exit interview at 4:30. She intends to leave work at 5, go home and change, and meet everyone at Triomphe at 7 sharp.
This is not what happens. Disaster strikes when the phone rings at 6am with news of a canceled interview, and Miranda leaves the bed in a huff. Andy decides it's her duty to help out, so she dresses quickly and makes it to the office by 7:15. Nigel gives her a questioning look, but she shrugs. "I was planning on hauling some of my stuff home before work," she lies, and for some reason, he believes it. Instead of playing Bejeweled on her computer for the entire morning, she starts cleaning up two articles on the docket for next month. After a little waffling, she decides to focus on the Meisel retrospective, for which Miranda personally convinced Steven to contribute a handful of as-yet-unseen photographs to. At 9 she parks herself in front of her computer with a thermos of Starbucks at the ready. Her headphones keep her isolated, and she works straight through until 2, when Jocelyn waves her out of her trance.
"Oh, shit," Andy says. "Lunch."
Jocelyn drops a plastic container on her desk. "It's arugula with walnuts and grilled chicken. Dressing on the side. Happy last day," she grins.
"You're the best, Joss," Andy tells her, breaking open the clamshell with anticipation. "I'm sorry."
"I wouldn't have been able to meet anyway. The cancellation put Miranda in a foul mood, so she took one look at the Victorian punting feature and tore it to shreds. But some of it can be fixed without reshoots, so I'm in with the guys now."
"Good luck," Andy says, her fork halfway to her mouth. "And thanks for saving the day for me."
"My pleasure."
Andy pulls her headphones back on and gets back to work, mechanically devouring her lunch bit by bit. At four, she drops the article with images on Lucien's desk. "See if this will work," she tells him, and the little frown line between his brows disappears for a moment. Without waiting for his reply, she makes a quick exit and grabs her purse. She's going to make a pit stop at Miranda's to pick up her dress for tonight. As she passes Miranda's office, only one assistant is outside, and she's distracted, hovering over her keyboard. Andy makes a split second decision, poking her head into the office to smile at Miranda.
"Hi," she says.
"Hello," Miranda replies evenly, and Andy once more marvels at her sense of utter control in the midst of chaos. "I can't--"
"I just want to borrow Roy for twenty minutes to pick up my dress. You mind?"
Miranda blinks. "Not at all."
"Thanks."
"Are you wearing the new Valentino?" Miranda asks as Andy turns to leave.
"Yep."
Miranda smiles. "Good."
Andy grins back and scoots out as quickly as possible, just in case the assistant might have heard them speaking. It's unlikely; the girl is oblivious to anything other than what's on her computer screen. After a fast text to Roy, Andy waits outside on the curb and slides into the sedan. "Miranda wants me to pick up a few things at the house," she tells him.
He chuckles. "Sure, Andy."
Andy blinks. "Pardon?"
Roy catches her eye in the rearview mirror. He clears his throat. "Nothing." They pull away.
Andy's heart begins to thud, loud and fast. "Seriously, Roy. What did you mean by that? You sound... funny."
There's a long pause. "Listen, Andy, I've been driving Miranda for a long, long time. And you two have been at it for what, at least a year and a half, right?"
Andy can't help it; she gasps.
"I don't care--Miranda's a helluva lot nicer to me now than she used to be. And whenever I've seen you together in the last year, she's treated you better than she ever treated her ex-husbands. That's a fact." Andy can feel the blush streaking down her chest; she thought they'd been so careful. Roy has only driven Andy a handful of times since she stopped being Miranda's assistant. "I don't know what your plans are, and like I said, it doesn't matter to me at all. I just hope that whatever it is works out.”
"Ho--how did you know?" It's pointless to even bother pretending.
"Miranda left her phone in the car one night. I didn't mean to see anything, honest. But your name was right there on a text message. And it was pretty clear that you weren't going to her house for work."
Wanting to sink into the seat, Andy covers her eyes.
"It wasn't sexy. Um, well, shit," Roy says, and this time he's the one who blushes. "It was just a plain old message about you going over there and sneaking in the back way. And bringing a present for the twins so they'd like you. I tried not to look, I swear. But I couldn't... unlook, you know? Miranda never knew. I just left her phone right there on the seat and pretended I didn't find it, and she never asked. The thing locks up after a while, so she didn't have a clue." He shifts in his seat. "And I'd like to keep it that way if you don't mind."
Andy is enormously relieved. "Of course. I wouldn't do anything to put your job in jeopardy, Roy. Especially considering you've been keeping our secret this whole time."
"I wouldn't have known otherwise-- hey, watch the road!" he shouts to a taxi driver who cuts him off. "Sorry. I mean, I barely see you. Just now and then outside Elias-Clarke, and when you've delivered stuff to the townhouse. You've been very discreet."
"Not for much longer," Andy says with a nervous grin. "Today's my last day at Runway. We're going to tell people. Tonight."
Roy hits the brake a little harder than usual. "You're kidding!"
"Not a bit."
"Damn," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Congratulations. Where are you going?"
"Vanity Fair. Now that I'm no longer working for Miranda, we felt like it was as safe as it could be to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak."
"Huh. I'm impressed. You've got it going on, Andy. I knew right away when you started at Runway. How long's it been now?"
"Around three years."
"Three years. And you and Miranda are still together after all that craziness." He laughs outright this time. "I'm more impressed at that. Miranda... Takes a certain kind of person to handle her."
Andy is almost offended, but not quite. Roy is exactly right. They pull up to the curb of the townhouse and Roy slows to a stop. "I'll wait. How long will you be?"
"Just a couple of minutes. I really am picking a few things up."
"I'll be here."
Andy hops out of the car and slams the door. She supposes that was a pretty easy coming out. Maybe it bodes well for the future.
Part II.
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: PG-13
Summary: the last installment of the Sick Day series, following Step Up.
Notes: thanks as always to my beta, Xander, and all the folks who have praised this series over the past eight months. I appreciate the support! Last but not least, many thanks to pin_drop , whose prompt (laryngitis) started the ball rolling.
Happy holidays to all. Hope your days are merry and bright!
---
Andy hates making the short walk to Nigel’s office, but she knows she has to get it over with. She’s been thinking a lot about his reaction; their relationship isn’t strained, but it’s focused only on work these days. It’s been this way for a while. No single thing changed between them, but after he confronted her about her “affair” with Lucien, she started feeling different about him. Not long after that, whatever curiosity he may have harbored about her personal life vanished.
What's worse is that her departure may end their friendship. Not because she’s leaving, but because of Miranda. She recalls the early days of wanting desperately to share her feelings for Miranda with him, believing only he would understand just how amazing her lover is. After a while, she stopped wanting to tell him, and became far more focused on hiding. Though it was tough to admit, she started seeing Nigel as a threat. Not to her, but to Miranda. She stopped trusting him to protect either of them. She realizes why this is; he might owe some degree of success in his career to Miranda, but he feels very much under her thumb. Andy is certain that he’s still smarting over Miranda’s coup a couple of years ago over Irv. No matter that the James Holt company didn’t get very far off the ground before it struggled; this past season they didn’t submit a spring collection due to financial trouble. Like so many design houses, they are suffering from the far-reaching implications of the Wall Street collapse.
Nigel is no fool. He knows that Miranda inadvertently saved his ass, even though no one in his right mind would consider it a favor. Jacqueline Follet faltered and was fired after an eight month stint at James Holt International; the company has since gone through two creative directors, and Miranda recently hinted that they might be looking for a buyout. It’s horrible. James has always been an innovative, exceptional designer, but his timing couldn’t have been worse to go global. Nigel would have been on that roller coaster. Could he have saved the day? Miranda doubts it, and as much as it pains her, Andy agrees, though she’s never told Miranda this.
Some things just don’t need to be spoken aloud.
At Nigel’s door, Andy straightens her navy suit jacket and knocks on the door. “Come in,” he croons, and when she walks inside, he’s leaning over the lightbox in the corner of his office. Glancing up, he smiles. “Hey, Andy. What problem can I solve for you today?”
Andy’s heart starts to thump wildly. “Well, it’s not exactly a problem. It’s more like news.”
He blinks. “You’re pregnant.”
Andy bursts out laughing. Some of her tension drains away; that was a completely unexpected guess. “No,” she manages through her giggles, “Not at all. Not even close.”
Nigel exhales. “Thank god. I couldn’t bear to lose you for an extended maternity leave.” He leans back on the stool and motions for her to take a seat. “Talk to me, dearie. Tell me the news.”
Her anxiety returns at mention of maternity leave. She takes a shallow breath and begins. “I’m leaving.”
She lets the news sink in. Nigel’s mouth actually drops. He looks so silly that Andy almost laughs; her nerves have not cooled off now that she’s said it. “What?” he finally says.
“To Vanity Fair. Associate copy editor. I start in two and a half weeks.”
Nigel exhales, almost deflates. “I want to say ‘you’re joking,’ but you’re not. I just don’t want to believe it.”
“You’ll barely miss me--”
“Oh stop. You know you do the job of someone well above your current title with no complaints. I don’t want to hear about how we’ll be fine without you. We will, but it’s going to be a pain in the ass to replace you.” He sighs melodramatically. “And we all know how I like to make everything about me, don’t we. So in an effort to correct that behavior, I suppose I’m forced to say ‘Congratulations’ and ‘good job,’ right?”
Andy shrugs her shoulders. “That would be okay.”
“Congratulations, Six. It couldn’t happen to a nicer girl.” He stands from his stool and Andy pushes up out of her chair to embrace him. “I’m thrilled for you. Gutted, mind you, but thrilled.”
“I appreciate it, Nigel. Really.”
“Now, sit down and tell me how it all happened.”
Andy squeezes his hand and sits again, while he takes the chair across from her. As she relates the whole story, it feels like old times for a few minutes. Nigel chuckles in all the right places, and coos as she describes what it was like to sit with the managing editor for an interview even though it’s only an associate position. He approves of her negotiation skills and ends up applauding as she describes the feeling of satisfaction of sending back her signed offer letter.
“It’s a new feeling, isn’t it. Not the same as getting a promotion where you already work.”
Andy nods, and knows he’s probably thinking about the day he accepted the job at James Holt. “It’s different. I didn’t sign anything when I started as an assistant except an NDA and health insurance forms. And I certainly didn’t negotiate salary. A job was a job, and that was enough.”
“I remember that day, very clearly,” he says, smiling. “That horrible tan jacket. And those shoes. You were adorable.”
“I doubt you called me that then.”
“Maybe. You’ve come a long way, baby. And so have your eyebrows.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the ones who might look out for a new job for me at another magazine, were the opportunity to arise.”
The hair on the back of Andy’s neck rises; out of nowhere, she is in treacherous waters. “Well, Vanity Fair doesn’t exactly seem like your genre,” she jokes, her tone light.
“No, but Vogue is. I know everyone over there, but you might hear something before I do. Conde is a little universe all its own, honey.” He polishes his glasses, his attempt at nonchalance unconvincing. “Just keep your ear to the ground, okay?”
“Sure, I will. Always.” She files this information away to consider at another time; it’s not a surprise, but it remains discomfiting to be privy to information that people wouldn’t want Miranda to hear. “Anyway, I’m going two weeks from today, so I’ll have a couple of days to play before I start.”
“Good for you! But more importantly, what the hell are we doing to send you off?”
Andy’s heart picks up its pace again; she and Miranda have been talking about just that. “I just thought about going to dinner. Maybe a club afterward. Nothing special.”
He considers the idea. “It’s a little boring. But it’s not like you’re leaving town, so we can’t do anything too decadent. Wouldn’t want any of us to make it into the papers just as you’re starting a new gig.”
Andy feels heat rising in her cheeks; she laughs to distract Nigel from the fact that she’s blushing. She and Miranda will undoubtedly be “in the papers” just as she’s starting her new gig. She gave fair warning to her new boss that she would shortly be going public with a relationship with a high-profile individual from the fashion world. Anna had assured her that it didn’t matter. As long as the person wasn’t from a competitor, there was no conflict of interest, and even then there was room to maneuver. Andy had waffled over confessing the identity of her significant other, wondering how much trouble it would cause in the office during her first weeks. But it’s too late now; she’d kept her mouth shut, so she has to take what comes.
They make small talk for a few more minutes, and thankfully Nigel never asks about Andy’s love life. They make plans to have a lunch before her last day, and he insists on helping plan her farewell dinner. When she finally heads out, she goes directly to Jocelyn’s office to share the news. With her, Andy feels no anxiety. Jocelyn is a friend, as much as she is a work colleague. Her door is open, and though she looks busy, Andy decides now’s as good a time as any. She closes the door and breaks the news-her reaction is the opposite of Nigel’s. She lets out a little cheer and throws her arms around Andy, truly overjoyed.
“I can’t believe it! My god, didn’t you only just start looking?”
Andy nods. “Lucien got me an interview. I really have him to thank.”
Jocelyn grins. “And Miranda had nothing to do with it. Well done. I’d hoped for you-I know how hard it’s been to keep things under wraps.” Jocelyn looks around, her voice low. Andy chuckles; Jocelyn is hypervigilant about Andy’s privacy, even in her own office. “What does Miranda say?”
“She’s really happy.” And proud, Andy reminds herself with a little frisson of pleasure. She takes a deep breath. “We’re going public.”
Jocelyn’s eyes grow wide. She shakes her head. “Are you nervous?”
“Yup, but we’re both done with hiding. I can’t wait for it to be over, honestly.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We’re not a hundred percent sure,” Andy replies. “But we’ll probably do something, go out somewhere after my last day. Make a public appearance, you know? We’re not having a press conference, but figured if we show up somewhere and have a romantic dinner, someone will notice.” She winces. “They’d better figure it out, though. Neither of us is much for public displays of affection. I might be able to convince her to hold my hand for a minute or two for the paparazzi.”
Jocelyn nods sagely. “That should be enough.” With a shiver, she adds, “I still can’t get over it. Although I’ve never seen you and Miranda outside work, so it’s hard for me to imagine what you’re like together.”
Andy can understand. She’s told Jocelyn about many kind things that Miranda does for her, but it’s nearly impossible to relate that person to the one who rules the magazine with such power and presence. Runway Miranda is steel to the core, while Andy’s Miranda has a hard shell that masks a deliciously mushy center. That mush was on display when flowers arrived on her desk today, delivered by courier. The card read, “Congratulations, from your sweetheart.”
Andy easily recognized the writing as Miranda’s. Which meant she’d gone to a florist, picked out a bouquet, and ordered them in person. Such a simple thing warmed her heart. It made her even more excited to show her affection to the world after so much concealment.
Jocelyn waves her hand in front of Andy’s eyes. “Earth to Andy. Are you still in there?”
“Sorry,” Andy replies sheepishly. “Just thinking. Um, you were saying?”
“I wanted to know when you start the new job.”
Andy tells her, and invites her to her farewell dinner, wherever it might be. With that, her main two tasks for the day are complete, and she returns to her desk to do some actual work.
---
A week later, everyone at Runway knows that Andy is leaving. She’s planned a dinner at Triomphe, a few blocks away from the office. Reservations are made, and she’s counting the days. Not that work hasn’t been enjoyable; she’s leaving, so no one’s handing her any long-term projects. She’s still putting in long hours, but today she finished her final edit to an article that was subsequently approved, so the rest of her days should be cake.
Tonight she snuggles next to Miranda, tired but content. Miranda, on the other hand, is restless. She usually lets Andy drape herself across her body, or they spoon, but not tonight. She’s tossed and turned for the last fifteen minutes. Finally, Andy caves.
“Honey,” she says softly, and Miranda starts. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing wrong,” Miranda huffs. This is a lie, Andy is sure. “I’m fine.”
Andy waits. She watches the faint outline of Miranda’s elegant profile in the near darkness, tracing her way down her nose with one finger. She moves to rub at Miranda's temples, coaxing a moan out of her. Seconds pass, utterly silent.
“Oh, fine. I think I should come to your farewell dinner.” Andy stills her hand. “I’m going to come, I’ve decided. I deserve to be there. I want to be there. All right?”
Andy’s breath leaves her in a rush. “Oh,” she replies, speechless. “Um, okay.”
Mind in a whirl, Andy tries to focus, but this is the last thing she expected. “Are you sure you… want to come out in front of everybody?”
“For god’s sake, we’re not going to have sex on the floor of the restaurant. Or on the dinner table,” she adds for good measure. “I’ll just be there. That should say it all. Someone will leak it to the press. Count on it.” Miranda turns over and faces Andy, leaning over her to snap on the bedside lamp. “Is this a terrible idea?”
Andy’s relieved; the question means there’s some room for negotiation. “I don’t know. It’s unexpected. Can I think it over?”
After a pause, Miranda nods once. “Don’t make me wait long.”
“I won’t, I promise.” Andy means it. This is huge for Miranda. It seems more frightening than just being out in public. On top of everything, Nigel will be there, and who knows how he’ll react. Andy was hoping not to witness his expression when he realizes that Andy’s been screwing the boss, right under everyone’s noses.
Andy shuts off the light, and Miranda pulls Andy’s arm across her waist. They cuddle together, and less than five minutes later, Miranda’s hand starts twitching the way it always does when she falls asleep.
Andy is not so lucky. She lies awake for an hour, then two, going over things in her mind. The right decision eludes her, then again, how should she know the right decision? Maybe it’s appropriate that the Runway crowd will be the first to know; they’re Andy’s friends, if not Miranda’s. At least now they’ll realize where Andy’s been running off to when she’s skipped out on drinks after work.
In fact, as she considers it, she imagines it might be kind of fun. A parting shot. It will certainly cause some drama at the office on Thursday. Andy almost wishes she could be there. Maybe they should have the party on Tuesday night, the night before Andy’s last day. She chuckles, and Miranda stirs next to her.
“Hmm?” Miranda says.
“Let’s do it.”
There’s a silence. “You wanna have sex?” Miranda slurs. She’s barely awake.
Andy laughs again. “No, I want you to come to my going away party.”
“Oh.” She hears Miranda swallow, nudging her head against Andy’s. “Good.”
Andy settles back against the pillow, Miranda’s breath warm against her neck. Decision made, she relaxes, and soon after, she sleeps.
---
Andy makes plans to have a fantastic last day. She schedules nothing but a lunch with Jocelyn and an exit interview at 4:30. She intends to leave work at 5, go home and change, and meet everyone at Triomphe at 7 sharp.
This is not what happens. Disaster strikes when the phone rings at 6am with news of a canceled interview, and Miranda leaves the bed in a huff. Andy decides it's her duty to help out, so she dresses quickly and makes it to the office by 7:15. Nigel gives her a questioning look, but she shrugs. "I was planning on hauling some of my stuff home before work," she lies, and for some reason, he believes it. Instead of playing Bejeweled on her computer for the entire morning, she starts cleaning up two articles on the docket for next month. After a little waffling, she decides to focus on the Meisel retrospective, for which Miranda personally convinced Steven to contribute a handful of as-yet-unseen photographs to. At 9 she parks herself in front of her computer with a thermos of Starbucks at the ready. Her headphones keep her isolated, and she works straight through until 2, when Jocelyn waves her out of her trance.
"Oh, shit," Andy says. "Lunch."
Jocelyn drops a plastic container on her desk. "It's arugula with walnuts and grilled chicken. Dressing on the side. Happy last day," she grins.
"You're the best, Joss," Andy tells her, breaking open the clamshell with anticipation. "I'm sorry."
"I wouldn't have been able to meet anyway. The cancellation put Miranda in a foul mood, so she took one look at the Victorian punting feature and tore it to shreds. But some of it can be fixed without reshoots, so I'm in with the guys now."
"Good luck," Andy says, her fork halfway to her mouth. "And thanks for saving the day for me."
"My pleasure."
Andy pulls her headphones back on and gets back to work, mechanically devouring her lunch bit by bit. At four, she drops the article with images on Lucien's desk. "See if this will work," she tells him, and the little frown line between his brows disappears for a moment. Without waiting for his reply, she makes a quick exit and grabs her purse. She's going to make a pit stop at Miranda's to pick up her dress for tonight. As she passes Miranda's office, only one assistant is outside, and she's distracted, hovering over her keyboard. Andy makes a split second decision, poking her head into the office to smile at Miranda.
"Hi," she says.
"Hello," Miranda replies evenly, and Andy once more marvels at her sense of utter control in the midst of chaos. "I can't--"
"I just want to borrow Roy for twenty minutes to pick up my dress. You mind?"
Miranda blinks. "Not at all."
"Thanks."
"Are you wearing the new Valentino?" Miranda asks as Andy turns to leave.
"Yep."
Miranda smiles. "Good."
Andy grins back and scoots out as quickly as possible, just in case the assistant might have heard them speaking. It's unlikely; the girl is oblivious to anything other than what's on her computer screen. After a fast text to Roy, Andy waits outside on the curb and slides into the sedan. "Miranda wants me to pick up a few things at the house," she tells him.
He chuckles. "Sure, Andy."
Andy blinks. "Pardon?"
Roy catches her eye in the rearview mirror. He clears his throat. "Nothing." They pull away.
Andy's heart begins to thud, loud and fast. "Seriously, Roy. What did you mean by that? You sound... funny."
There's a long pause. "Listen, Andy, I've been driving Miranda for a long, long time. And you two have been at it for what, at least a year and a half, right?"
Andy can't help it; she gasps.
"I don't care--Miranda's a helluva lot nicer to me now than she used to be. And whenever I've seen you together in the last year, she's treated you better than she ever treated her ex-husbands. That's a fact." Andy can feel the blush streaking down her chest; she thought they'd been so careful. Roy has only driven Andy a handful of times since she stopped being Miranda's assistant. "I don't know what your plans are, and like I said, it doesn't matter to me at all. I just hope that whatever it is works out.”
"Ho--how did you know?" It's pointless to even bother pretending.
"Miranda left her phone in the car one night. I didn't mean to see anything, honest. But your name was right there on a text message. And it was pretty clear that you weren't going to her house for work."
Wanting to sink into the seat, Andy covers her eyes.
"It wasn't sexy. Um, well, shit," Roy says, and this time he's the one who blushes. "It was just a plain old message about you going over there and sneaking in the back way. And bringing a present for the twins so they'd like you. I tried not to look, I swear. But I couldn't... unlook, you know? Miranda never knew. I just left her phone right there on the seat and pretended I didn't find it, and she never asked. The thing locks up after a while, so she didn't have a clue." He shifts in his seat. "And I'd like to keep it that way if you don't mind."
Andy is enormously relieved. "Of course. I wouldn't do anything to put your job in jeopardy, Roy. Especially considering you've been keeping our secret this whole time."
"I wouldn't have known otherwise-- hey, watch the road!" he shouts to a taxi driver who cuts him off. "Sorry. I mean, I barely see you. Just now and then outside Elias-Clarke, and when you've delivered stuff to the townhouse. You've been very discreet."
"Not for much longer," Andy says with a nervous grin. "Today's my last day at Runway. We're going to tell people. Tonight."
Roy hits the brake a little harder than usual. "You're kidding!"
"Not a bit."
"Damn," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Congratulations. Where are you going?"
"Vanity Fair. Now that I'm no longer working for Miranda, we felt like it was as safe as it could be to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak."
"Huh. I'm impressed. You've got it going on, Andy. I knew right away when you started at Runway. How long's it been now?"
"Around three years."
"Three years. And you and Miranda are still together after all that craziness." He laughs outright this time. "I'm more impressed at that. Miranda... Takes a certain kind of person to handle her."
Andy is almost offended, but not quite. Roy is exactly right. They pull up to the curb of the townhouse and Roy slows to a stop. "I'll wait. How long will you be?"
"Just a couple of minutes. I really am picking a few things up."
"I'll be here."
Andy hops out of the car and slams the door. She supposes that was a pretty easy coming out. Maybe it bodes well for the future.
Part II.