Merry Yuletide, lupinotuum!
Title: Facing the Truth
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Giftee: lupinotuum
Prompt(s): Miranda/Andy fic, involving, somehow, a very jealous Miranda, Andy with short hair, and 'You're Beautiful' by James Blunt.
Summary: It's been two years since Paris.
Disclaimer: haha...please. If I owned them, they'd so do it every chance they got.
A/N: Well, this is later than I wanted it to be, but I hope you enjoy it. My iMiranda seemed to be in a very interesting place and this fic sort of just poured out of me over the course of two days. A special thanks to dragonwine for beta'ng this for me. Comments are love!
Miranda stared down at the people bustling about on the street below. The wind shifted blowing a little girl’s hat off of her head and several people scrambled to get it. Miranda frowned in disapproval. It was a cold, windy New York day. The sky was an abysmal shade of gray and she was sure she’d seen a pigeon wearing an awful pair of cheap earmuffs that clashed horribly with its feathers. Surely the little girl’s parents could afford to get her a suitable tam or cloche that would stay firmly in place. It didn’t matter anyway. Taking in the girl’s flimsy, thin hoodie and her well-worn jeans and shoes, proper headwear would be of no use.
The sight of a familiar scarlet trench caught her eye and she felt her breath still as her heart beat faster. It was like a ray of sunshine on this otherwise dreary day. She watched as the woman quickly made her way out of the building and down the street unsteadily on her four-inch heels. Miranda watched, jealous of the wind as it caressed and lifted shiny, chin-length dark tresses and made otherwise porcelain pale skin rosy with its icy heat. She watched until she could no longer distinguish the woman from the millions of other people walking around the busy streets.
She sighed tiredly. Now she could go home. Her day was complete. She strolled out of her office, not bothering to glance at her lowly second assistant who, at the sight of her, had scrambled to her feet with the grace of a newborn colt. “Coat, bag,” she said, slipping her Dior shades on, never breaking her stride even as the girl helped her into her coat and handed her her favorite Chanel bag. “Emily, I want Roy in front of this building before I exit the elevator.” She could hear Emily fumble with her phone, but didn’t bother to turn around. Instead she secured her usual frown of indignation, enjoying the way the clackers scattered as she reached the silver doors. They slid open and a young gofer from another magazine spilled out, stumbling over himself to get out of her way.
Stepping onto the lift, she sighed again once she was finally alone. She grimaced at the habit. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Expressing her discontent with a huff of short breath. She could almost her hear her mother’s tsk of disappointment. She’d constantly reprimanded a then young Miriam that it was unladylike and disrespectful to vocalize her emotions in such a manner. And just as she’d always told her mother then, she couldn’t help it. She really couldn’t. She was…discontent. Severely unsatisfied with herself and her life as of late. And that was unusual for her. She wasn’t the type of person that lived inside of her head and analyzed her decisions and experiences. She’d stopped being that girl a long time ago. When she’d lost that youthful hope that all people were inherently good and that good always triumphed over evil.
But she’d begun to do a lot of that over the past two years. Examine her life and herself as a person. And she’d been surprised to find it lacking. Surprised to find that despite having everything she could ever want, she was truly unhappy and alone. Somewhere along the line she’d lost her humanity and had become what she’d always despised her father for being, but could no longer judge him for. She could still hear his voice telling her that life wasn’t about one’s happiness, but one’s accomplishments. Apparently she’d unknowingly taken that lesson to heart. He’d be so proud that his “greatest disappointment” turned out to be the biggest success and the most like him.
Roy was waiting by the curb when she made it to the car. The door was open and she climbed in, face twisting at her maudlin thoughts. This was pathetic. She was above this. She needed to stop. She repeated the favored mantra in her head. One she’d started reciting two years ago. She closed her eyes and thought back to the night it had all begun. The night her ungrateful second assistant had walked away without so much as a glance back.
At first she’d been angry. Infuriated by the sheer audacity of it all. She’d called her, actually called her, to tell her just that, only to have her calls go straight to voicemail. Miranda was hell-bent on making her pay just as soon as she got ahold of her. She called repeatedly over the next day and a half, her indignation only growing. How dare she pull a stunt like this? But despite the fact that she was angry, she never stopped calling and that should have been her first clue. Then Emily had called to inform her of the girl’s resignation and Miranda had refused to believe it. And that she should have been her second clue. But it was only when the call from Mike Robertson of the New York Mirror came, asking her for her reference, that she was forced to face the fact that Andrea Sachs would not be coming back. And once all of the anger and righteous indignation gave way she was left with startling devastation.
It had nearly knocked the breath out of her. She was actually surprised and devastated to have lost the girl from her employ. Surely there was something wrong. She’d destroyed people for far less and she certainly never cared when they quit because they couldn’t handle her demands of their complete competency. Still she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at the girl. She’d tried. She’d wanted to write a scathing letter to Mike Robertson and make it so that Andrea would never work again, but there was a little voice that told her she’d only be doing in hopes that it would force her to come crawling back. So, she offered up the reference hastily and left for the day, much like she had earlier today. And there standing before her, was Andrea Sachs, smiling and waving as if she were greeting an old friend. Miranda was sure her heart had skipped a beat that day and she’d quickly climbed into the car before she could do anything utterly ridiculous like wave back. Still she found herself watching the girl. And she hadn’t stopped since then.
And so began her trip into self-analysis. It had taken many months of this and watching out of the window in her office almost daily, for her to admit that somewhere along the line, without her knowledge or consent, she’d fallen in love with Andrea Sachs. Not that admitting it to herself had done much good. Being in love with Andrea was inconvenient and unwanted. She’d never once desired to fall in love. She thought it was foolish and unnecessary and a myth. Most people fell into infatuation and lust and labeled it as love, only to reach the cruel reality months later and Miranda had never believed in wasting her time on such nonsense. Her first marriage had been based on mutual respect and attraction. They’d had similar interests and seemed to want the same things. Or at least that’s what she’d thought. Only Richard decided he wanted her to be a devoted wife and mother and give up her dreams to support his own. Having the twins had been a compromise on her part and still he wasn’t satisfied and by the time the girls had reached their second birthday, she and Richard had been signing the divorce papers. Stephen had been a marriage of convenience. A last ditch effort on her part to provide a normal life for the girls. But she’d promised to never try that again.
So finding herself at 52 and in love for the very first time with someone she could never and would never be with served no purpose at all except to make her feel as if she were coming apart. She felt foolish and irrational and lonely. She’d practically press her face to the glass of her office window every chance she got, hoping to spot the girl’s comings and goings. It was pathetic, truly absurd, but she still did it. She couldn’t seem to help it anymore than the sighing.
Shaking her head, she grabbed Cassidy’s forgotten iPod, needing the distraction. She hit play, silently praying that nothing offensive to her ears would filter through the speakers. When the soft melody began to play she relaxed, sitting back and turning to look out of the window. This was not her usual town car. That one was in the shop being detailed. This one was far less comfortable and the windows weren’t tinted. She watched as the people on the sidewalks bustled about getting ready for the holiday no doubt. Miranda would be spending hers alone. The girls had gone to their father’s, taking even Patricia along for the trip. Before two years ago, Miranda would have looked forward to the quiet, but now she just felt like the house was too quiet.
“My life is brilliant…my love is pure…”
Miranda’s ears zeroed in on the lyrics and she felt rendered in place. Her breath catching as the singer crooned whiningly about loving someone he’d never have. A cruel fate by the gods. “You’re beautiful…” he just kept repeating it over and over again and try as she might, she could not erase the images of Andrea that flittered through her mind. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut and lurched almost violently when Roy stopped abruptly. There was a traffic jam and he apologized profusely, not that she was listening. She instead tried to get control of her breathing and her emotions. But as if fate really had some sick sense of humor, the scarlet trench appeared before her eyes once again. The door to Bendel’s swung open and out stepped Andrea Sachs herself, smiling so brightly it rivaled the sun. And just like that, Miranda could feel herself coming undone. Andrea turned and smiled sweetly at a blonde at her side, taking a moment to kiss her lovingly on the lips and Miranda thought she’d faint from lack of oxygen. Andrea pulled back first, brushing a stray golden lock away and smiling at the woman again. She looked around at the passersby and before Miranda could look away, they locked eyes.
Large, brown, doe-like eyes widened and for a moment, Miranda was reminded of the awkward girl from Ohio that had showed up in her office and changed her life forever. That Andrea was apparently long gone, but as they continued to stare at one another, Miranda could feel that old connection she’d never noticed until it was too late. The blonde stepped in between them, ruining the moment as Andrea turned her attention and smiled back to the woman. Taking her hand, they strolled down the street and disappeared into another store.
Miranda sat back, blinking at the odd stinging behind her eyes. Her chest hurt and a burning sensation unfurled in her stomach. The song started again and Miranda had to fight the urge to pick the device up and hurl it out of the window. She didn’t relish the idea of having to explain to Cassidy why she’d had to replace the old one. She sniffed, trying to regain control over her emotions. Well that put an end to that. She could move on. It was nice to have closure. Now this nonsense could end and she could get past it.
But two days later she was still blue. She spent the last few nights watching Love Actually and barely managed to hold in the tears. Heartbreak felt nothing like failure. Failure was what Miranda was used to dealing with at the end of a relationship, but this…thing hadn’t even been a relationship. Yet, she felt as if her heart was actually ripping in two. Not in a way that anyone would notice. No, she’d long since mastered masking her true emotions while at Runway. Still it had taken her twice as long to send her new “Emily” into a fit of tears because her barbs didn’t hold their usual vitriol.
The knock at the door caused her to start and she swiveled her chair slowly, prepared to tear into the person who was intruding. Nigel walked in with the latest disaster from the art department no doubt. He paused when he caught sight of her. Setting the book down, he adjusted his glasses. “Okay, I think it’s time you and I went out for drinks and a little girl talk.”
She should have known, Nigel would see through it. They’d been friends a long time and despite their professional relationship and all that had happened between them, the friendship hadn’t really been shaken. She hadn’t told him a single thing about her feelings, but she’d caught him looking at her not a few times, the month following Paris and somehow she knew he’d figured it out. He’d tried to get it out of her only once. The last time they done the whole “girl talk” outing nearly a year ago. She refused to talk about it and he hadn’t brought it up since. She wanted to tell him there was really no need and that she was fine, but they’d both know it was a lie. And it felt good to know that even though she had no desire to share what had transpired a few nights ago, Nigel was still there.
They took a late lunch over at the Plaza, making sure to be seated as far away from the other patrons as possible. They ordered their drinks and sat back, staring across from one another.
“Did the girls’ flight land in London okay?” He started, swirling the scotch in his glass around the cubes of ice.
Start with the girls, always a safe choice, Miranda thought with an inner grin. “Oh yes, they arrived yesterday and they’re having a ball with their nanny.”
“Nanny, huh? Do I hear wedding bells for wife number three?”
Miranda took a sip of her wine, her lips quirking at the question. “Probably, though she’s young enough to be one of our girls.”
“Well, you know what they say, love knows no age, only hearts.” He took a long sip, studying her face for a moment.
So he was going to play it that way. “Nigel, did you invite me out to quote tired adages of a mythical feeling most people use as an excuse to act foolishly without recourse?”
“No, I invited you out because it is Christmas Eve and you’re probably going to be spending most if not all of your night, holed up in your office, working on next month’s layout.”
“Oh Nigel, don’t be maudlin. That could not be further from the truth. I will be at home, in my study, curled up with the Book.”
“And just how is that different from any other night?” He asked, taking another sip.
“I will be enjoying a glass of wine and listening to the instrumental Christmas music the girls insisted I buy.” Her lips quirked again as he just looked at her.
“That is no way to spend Christmas, Miranda. The girls are out of the country with their father and you have New York City at your fingertips. You should be out living life for just this one day. Not curled up with the Book.” He looked over at her and she rolled her eyes. “What did you ask Santa for?”
Blue eyes widened at the question. “I’m not sure going out for drinks was such a good idea since you’re clearly mixing it with some other substance.”
“I’m serious. I know you’re Miranda Priestly, but there’s got to be at least one thing in this great city that you want.” He looked at her pointedly and she offered him a bitter smile.
“I can’t think of a single thing,” she said coolly, and he sat back.
“Miranda, it’s Christmas and on Christmas you tell the truth. Don’t miss out because you were too afraid to be honest with yourself.”
Nigel’s words stayed with her the rest of the day along with that damn song and by five she’d had enough. She hurried out of the building before she could think about what she was doing. Roy opened the door and she had him quickly circle the block and park on the other side of the street. And just like clockwork, the familiar scarlet trench appeared. Miranda instructed Roy to stand outside and wait for her. Her mind buzzed with a million thoughts. She was insane. This was completely ridiculous. She should tell Roy to get back in the car and drive her home. Then after the holiday she’d get a massage and make an appointment with a psychiatrist because she was surely suffering the effects of early dementia.
She went to grab her phone to tell Roy to get in and drive when the door opened. Her pulse raced when the flash of red caught her peripheral and a very confused Andrea Sachs sat beside her. They just stared at one another for a moment, both not quite believing that they were meeting again just like this. The door shut firmly behind her, seeming to break the spell. Andrea sat back, her posture stiff as she stared straight ahead. Roy climbed into the front seat, looking up into his rearview mirror, awaiting instruction.
Miranda found herself at a loss. There seemed to be one problem with not thinking about what she was doing, she no longer knew what to do. Andrea was here beside her and she had no clue what to say or do. But if nothing else she’d long since mastered the “never let them see you sweat” routine. She masked her surprise and scowled. “Roy, we will be driving Andrea home. She lives on…” She looked over at the girl, finding that she seemed to be rooted in spot. She nervously glanced at the editor and it was like two years hadn’t passed at all. That somehow calmed Miranda and she arched an expectant eyebrow at the brunette before adding in an eye roll for good measure, sighing impatiently.
“The Village. I-I live in the Village…between West 4th and West 12th ,” Andrea said, stuttering.
Some things never changed, Miranda thought, pleased. She looked out of the window, watching as snowflakes began to flutter to the ground, plastering themselves against the window before disappearing. It reminded her of the many people that had come and gone in her life. Andrea was supposed to be one of them, but instead she was like an unmovable chunk of ice. God, when had she become so maudlinly poetic? She could feel the girl’s gaze on her. It burned her everywhere it touched and she closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations she’d been without for two long years.
Andrea cleared her throat, drawing blue eyes to her. “Um…well…see…I…not that I’m not appreciative of it, but was there some reason you…you…offered to drive me home?”
Was there a reason? Miranda really had none for this uncharacteristic “stroke of genius” save for the fact that after seeing Andrea with that woman, her obsession had only grown. The need to see her, talk to her, smell her, would no longer be ignored and Nigel’s words had sent her right over the edge. But she could no more tell Andrea that than she could tell her that there hadn’t been a day that went by in the past two years that she hadn’t missed her terribly.
“Well Andrea, it is too cold for you to go traipsing about New York in such a thin jacket.” Miranda sniffed, realizing even as the words had failed to do their job. She was Miranda Priestly, and as such, never gave thought to such things. And as the quiet settled between them, she could almost hear Andrea’s journalistic curiosity being piqued.
“You, Miranda Priestly, were concerned about my well being? We haven’t even spoken in two years and considering how things…ended between us, I would think my well being would be the last thing on your mind.” Andrea arched her eyebrow in amusement, meeting Miranda’s gaze head on. Gone was the nervous second assistant. Now the confident journalist sat before her and Miranda didn’t think it was possible, but she fell a little more.
“Perhaps this is my one good deed for the day.” Miranda slipped her glasses back on, unable to hide her small grin.
Andrea smiled back, causing the editor’s breathing to go a little shallow. “Have you started scheduling those in now? In between assigning impossible tasks to your assistants and making grown men cry?”
“I find that it sort of balances things out,” Miranda kept her expression straight and Andrea’s smile only grew brighter and the older woman’s heart ached.
“I bet.” Andrea turned and looked out of her window.
She allowed herself to look at Andrea for the first time since she gotten into the car. The off the rack trench fit her frame perfectly and what she could see of Andrea’s outfit was a far cry from the disaster she’d been wearing the first day they met. Her once long, dark locks had been cut stylishly, stopping just below her chin, making her features all the more striking. Miranda’s fingers itched to touch the glossy strands. Never had she ever wanted to touch another person more than she seemed to want to feel Andrea’s skin beneath her fingertips. Not that she would. She wasn’t sure what she’d been trying to accomplish with this little trip, but it wasn’t to end up more confused. Everything was so different now. Andrea was different and it had little to do with her haircut or new clothes. And Miranda found herself at a loss of what to say or do because her heart seemed to be forming a mutiny against her brain and that was never a good sign.
“Miranda,” Andrea uttered softly. “What is this all about?”
“I’ve missed you,” Miranda whispered back, surprised by the words. It wasn’t what she’d been planning to say. She hadn’t planned to say anything at all. And certainly not the truth.
Andrea turned and looked at her, her dark eyes wide, her mouth agape. Miranda was thankful for the glasses. Her heartbeat wildly and she had to turn away because Andrea had yet to utter a single word and she couldn’t stand to watch the rejection.
They rode in silence the rest of the way. Miranda silently berated herself for her stupidity. Forget about the Book, she was going to go home and get good and drunk. She didn’t care that it wasn’t healthy. She’d do anything to drown out the pain that was settling into her heart, making her feel unbearably cold.
Roy came to a stop and Andrea turned to her. She opened her mouth to say something. Apologize probably, but Miranda cut her off. “Goodnight Andrea.” The girl continued to sit there, just staring. Miranda couldn’t stand it. She turned slowly, facing the journalist who still looked as frightened as a deer caught in headlights. “That’s all.”
That seemed to spur her into action. She grabbed at the handle of the door Roy had opened and instead of getting out of the car, she pulled it shut, facing the editor. “God Miranda, you just…and you…you’re so infuriating. Do you know that? You’re just so fucking infuriating!”
Miranda’s eyes widened in surprise. How dare this girl say such things to her when she’d all but bared her soul? She opened her mouth to say just that, only to feel Andrea press her lips softly against her own. The kiss was soft and sweet and ended far too soon for her liking. Then just like that, Andrea was pulling back. She opened the door and was half the way out of the door before she turned back around.
“I’ve missed you too,” she said, pressing a card into Miranda’s palm. “Merry Christmas, Miranda.” And then she was gone. Roy scrambled back to the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb.
Miranda looked down at the card in her hand. It had Andrea’s phone number at work and her cell. A smile touched Miranda’s lips that still tingled. Merry Christmas indeed.
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Giftee: lupinotuum
Prompt(s): Miranda/Andy fic, involving, somehow, a very jealous Miranda, Andy with short hair, and 'You're Beautiful' by James Blunt.
Summary: It's been two years since Paris.
Disclaimer: haha...please. If I owned them, they'd so do it every chance they got.
A/N: Well, this is later than I wanted it to be, but I hope you enjoy it. My iMiranda seemed to be in a very interesting place and this fic sort of just poured out of me over the course of two days. A special thanks to dragonwine for beta'ng this for me. Comments are love!
Miranda stared down at the people bustling about on the street below. The wind shifted blowing a little girl’s hat off of her head and several people scrambled to get it. Miranda frowned in disapproval. It was a cold, windy New York day. The sky was an abysmal shade of gray and she was sure she’d seen a pigeon wearing an awful pair of cheap earmuffs that clashed horribly with its feathers. Surely the little girl’s parents could afford to get her a suitable tam or cloche that would stay firmly in place. It didn’t matter anyway. Taking in the girl’s flimsy, thin hoodie and her well-worn jeans and shoes, proper headwear would be of no use.
The sight of a familiar scarlet trench caught her eye and she felt her breath still as her heart beat faster. It was like a ray of sunshine on this otherwise dreary day. She watched as the woman quickly made her way out of the building and down the street unsteadily on her four-inch heels. Miranda watched, jealous of the wind as it caressed and lifted shiny, chin-length dark tresses and made otherwise porcelain pale skin rosy with its icy heat. She watched until she could no longer distinguish the woman from the millions of other people walking around the busy streets.
She sighed tiredly. Now she could go home. Her day was complete. She strolled out of her office, not bothering to glance at her lowly second assistant who, at the sight of her, had scrambled to her feet with the grace of a newborn colt. “Coat, bag,” she said, slipping her Dior shades on, never breaking her stride even as the girl helped her into her coat and handed her her favorite Chanel bag. “Emily, I want Roy in front of this building before I exit the elevator.” She could hear Emily fumble with her phone, but didn’t bother to turn around. Instead she secured her usual frown of indignation, enjoying the way the clackers scattered as she reached the silver doors. They slid open and a young gofer from another magazine spilled out, stumbling over himself to get out of her way.
Stepping onto the lift, she sighed again once she was finally alone. She grimaced at the habit. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Expressing her discontent with a huff of short breath. She could almost her hear her mother’s tsk of disappointment. She’d constantly reprimanded a then young Miriam that it was unladylike and disrespectful to vocalize her emotions in such a manner. And just as she’d always told her mother then, she couldn’t help it. She really couldn’t. She was…discontent. Severely unsatisfied with herself and her life as of late. And that was unusual for her. She wasn’t the type of person that lived inside of her head and analyzed her decisions and experiences. She’d stopped being that girl a long time ago. When she’d lost that youthful hope that all people were inherently good and that good always triumphed over evil.
But she’d begun to do a lot of that over the past two years. Examine her life and herself as a person. And she’d been surprised to find it lacking. Surprised to find that despite having everything she could ever want, she was truly unhappy and alone. Somewhere along the line she’d lost her humanity and had become what she’d always despised her father for being, but could no longer judge him for. She could still hear his voice telling her that life wasn’t about one’s happiness, but one’s accomplishments. Apparently she’d unknowingly taken that lesson to heart. He’d be so proud that his “greatest disappointment” turned out to be the biggest success and the most like him.
Roy was waiting by the curb when she made it to the car. The door was open and she climbed in, face twisting at her maudlin thoughts. This was pathetic. She was above this. She needed to stop. She repeated the favored mantra in her head. One she’d started reciting two years ago. She closed her eyes and thought back to the night it had all begun. The night her ungrateful second assistant had walked away without so much as a glance back.
At first she’d been angry. Infuriated by the sheer audacity of it all. She’d called her, actually called her, to tell her just that, only to have her calls go straight to voicemail. Miranda was hell-bent on making her pay just as soon as she got ahold of her. She called repeatedly over the next day and a half, her indignation only growing. How dare she pull a stunt like this? But despite the fact that she was angry, she never stopped calling and that should have been her first clue. Then Emily had called to inform her of the girl’s resignation and Miranda had refused to believe it. And that she should have been her second clue. But it was only when the call from Mike Robertson of the New York Mirror came, asking her for her reference, that she was forced to face the fact that Andrea Sachs would not be coming back. And once all of the anger and righteous indignation gave way she was left with startling devastation.
It had nearly knocked the breath out of her. She was actually surprised and devastated to have lost the girl from her employ. Surely there was something wrong. She’d destroyed people for far less and she certainly never cared when they quit because they couldn’t handle her demands of their complete competency. Still she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at the girl. She’d tried. She’d wanted to write a scathing letter to Mike Robertson and make it so that Andrea would never work again, but there was a little voice that told her she’d only be doing in hopes that it would force her to come crawling back. So, she offered up the reference hastily and left for the day, much like she had earlier today. And there standing before her, was Andrea Sachs, smiling and waving as if she were greeting an old friend. Miranda was sure her heart had skipped a beat that day and she’d quickly climbed into the car before she could do anything utterly ridiculous like wave back. Still she found herself watching the girl. And she hadn’t stopped since then.
And so began her trip into self-analysis. It had taken many months of this and watching out of the window in her office almost daily, for her to admit that somewhere along the line, without her knowledge or consent, she’d fallen in love with Andrea Sachs. Not that admitting it to herself had done much good. Being in love with Andrea was inconvenient and unwanted. She’d never once desired to fall in love. She thought it was foolish and unnecessary and a myth. Most people fell into infatuation and lust and labeled it as love, only to reach the cruel reality months later and Miranda had never believed in wasting her time on such nonsense. Her first marriage had been based on mutual respect and attraction. They’d had similar interests and seemed to want the same things. Or at least that’s what she’d thought. Only Richard decided he wanted her to be a devoted wife and mother and give up her dreams to support his own. Having the twins had been a compromise on her part and still he wasn’t satisfied and by the time the girls had reached their second birthday, she and Richard had been signing the divorce papers. Stephen had been a marriage of convenience. A last ditch effort on her part to provide a normal life for the girls. But she’d promised to never try that again.
So finding herself at 52 and in love for the very first time with someone she could never and would never be with served no purpose at all except to make her feel as if she were coming apart. She felt foolish and irrational and lonely. She’d practically press her face to the glass of her office window every chance she got, hoping to spot the girl’s comings and goings. It was pathetic, truly absurd, but she still did it. She couldn’t seem to help it anymore than the sighing.
Shaking her head, she grabbed Cassidy’s forgotten iPod, needing the distraction. She hit play, silently praying that nothing offensive to her ears would filter through the speakers. When the soft melody began to play she relaxed, sitting back and turning to look out of the window. This was not her usual town car. That one was in the shop being detailed. This one was far less comfortable and the windows weren’t tinted. She watched as the people on the sidewalks bustled about getting ready for the holiday no doubt. Miranda would be spending hers alone. The girls had gone to their father’s, taking even Patricia along for the trip. Before two years ago, Miranda would have looked forward to the quiet, but now she just felt like the house was too quiet.
“My life is brilliant…my love is pure…”
Miranda’s ears zeroed in on the lyrics and she felt rendered in place. Her breath catching as the singer crooned whiningly about loving someone he’d never have. A cruel fate by the gods. “You’re beautiful…” he just kept repeating it over and over again and try as she might, she could not erase the images of Andrea that flittered through her mind. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut and lurched almost violently when Roy stopped abruptly. There was a traffic jam and he apologized profusely, not that she was listening. She instead tried to get control of her breathing and her emotions. But as if fate really had some sick sense of humor, the scarlet trench appeared before her eyes once again. The door to Bendel’s swung open and out stepped Andrea Sachs herself, smiling so brightly it rivaled the sun. And just like that, Miranda could feel herself coming undone. Andrea turned and smiled sweetly at a blonde at her side, taking a moment to kiss her lovingly on the lips and Miranda thought she’d faint from lack of oxygen. Andrea pulled back first, brushing a stray golden lock away and smiling at the woman again. She looked around at the passersby and before Miranda could look away, they locked eyes.
Large, brown, doe-like eyes widened and for a moment, Miranda was reminded of the awkward girl from Ohio that had showed up in her office and changed her life forever. That Andrea was apparently long gone, but as they continued to stare at one another, Miranda could feel that old connection she’d never noticed until it was too late. The blonde stepped in between them, ruining the moment as Andrea turned her attention and smiled back to the woman. Taking her hand, they strolled down the street and disappeared into another store.
Miranda sat back, blinking at the odd stinging behind her eyes. Her chest hurt and a burning sensation unfurled in her stomach. The song started again and Miranda had to fight the urge to pick the device up and hurl it out of the window. She didn’t relish the idea of having to explain to Cassidy why she’d had to replace the old one. She sniffed, trying to regain control over her emotions. Well that put an end to that. She could move on. It was nice to have closure. Now this nonsense could end and she could get past it.
But two days later she was still blue. She spent the last few nights watching Love Actually and barely managed to hold in the tears. Heartbreak felt nothing like failure. Failure was what Miranda was used to dealing with at the end of a relationship, but this…thing hadn’t even been a relationship. Yet, she felt as if her heart was actually ripping in two. Not in a way that anyone would notice. No, she’d long since mastered masking her true emotions while at Runway. Still it had taken her twice as long to send her new “Emily” into a fit of tears because her barbs didn’t hold their usual vitriol.
The knock at the door caused her to start and she swiveled her chair slowly, prepared to tear into the person who was intruding. Nigel walked in with the latest disaster from the art department no doubt. He paused when he caught sight of her. Setting the book down, he adjusted his glasses. “Okay, I think it’s time you and I went out for drinks and a little girl talk.”
She should have known, Nigel would see through it. They’d been friends a long time and despite their professional relationship and all that had happened between them, the friendship hadn’t really been shaken. She hadn’t told him a single thing about her feelings, but she’d caught him looking at her not a few times, the month following Paris and somehow she knew he’d figured it out. He’d tried to get it out of her only once. The last time they done the whole “girl talk” outing nearly a year ago. She refused to talk about it and he hadn’t brought it up since. She wanted to tell him there was really no need and that she was fine, but they’d both know it was a lie. And it felt good to know that even though she had no desire to share what had transpired a few nights ago, Nigel was still there.
They took a late lunch over at the Plaza, making sure to be seated as far away from the other patrons as possible. They ordered their drinks and sat back, staring across from one another.
“Did the girls’ flight land in London okay?” He started, swirling the scotch in his glass around the cubes of ice.
Start with the girls, always a safe choice, Miranda thought with an inner grin. “Oh yes, they arrived yesterday and they’re having a ball with their nanny.”
“Nanny, huh? Do I hear wedding bells for wife number three?”
Miranda took a sip of her wine, her lips quirking at the question. “Probably, though she’s young enough to be one of our girls.”
“Well, you know what they say, love knows no age, only hearts.” He took a long sip, studying her face for a moment.
So he was going to play it that way. “Nigel, did you invite me out to quote tired adages of a mythical feeling most people use as an excuse to act foolishly without recourse?”
“No, I invited you out because it is Christmas Eve and you’re probably going to be spending most if not all of your night, holed up in your office, working on next month’s layout.”
“Oh Nigel, don’t be maudlin. That could not be further from the truth. I will be at home, in my study, curled up with the Book.”
“And just how is that different from any other night?” He asked, taking another sip.
“I will be enjoying a glass of wine and listening to the instrumental Christmas music the girls insisted I buy.” Her lips quirked again as he just looked at her.
“That is no way to spend Christmas, Miranda. The girls are out of the country with their father and you have New York City at your fingertips. You should be out living life for just this one day. Not curled up with the Book.” He looked over at her and she rolled her eyes. “What did you ask Santa for?”
Blue eyes widened at the question. “I’m not sure going out for drinks was such a good idea since you’re clearly mixing it with some other substance.”
“I’m serious. I know you’re Miranda Priestly, but there’s got to be at least one thing in this great city that you want.” He looked at her pointedly and she offered him a bitter smile.
“I can’t think of a single thing,” she said coolly, and he sat back.
“Miranda, it’s Christmas and on Christmas you tell the truth. Don’t miss out because you were too afraid to be honest with yourself.”
Nigel’s words stayed with her the rest of the day along with that damn song and by five she’d had enough. She hurried out of the building before she could think about what she was doing. Roy opened the door and she had him quickly circle the block and park on the other side of the street. And just like clockwork, the familiar scarlet trench appeared. Miranda instructed Roy to stand outside and wait for her. Her mind buzzed with a million thoughts. She was insane. This was completely ridiculous. She should tell Roy to get back in the car and drive her home. Then after the holiday she’d get a massage and make an appointment with a psychiatrist because she was surely suffering the effects of early dementia.
She went to grab her phone to tell Roy to get in and drive when the door opened. Her pulse raced when the flash of red caught her peripheral and a very confused Andrea Sachs sat beside her. They just stared at one another for a moment, both not quite believing that they were meeting again just like this. The door shut firmly behind her, seeming to break the spell. Andrea sat back, her posture stiff as she stared straight ahead. Roy climbed into the front seat, looking up into his rearview mirror, awaiting instruction.
Miranda found herself at a loss. There seemed to be one problem with not thinking about what she was doing, she no longer knew what to do. Andrea was here beside her and she had no clue what to say or do. But if nothing else she’d long since mastered the “never let them see you sweat” routine. She masked her surprise and scowled. “Roy, we will be driving Andrea home. She lives on…” She looked over at the girl, finding that she seemed to be rooted in spot. She nervously glanced at the editor and it was like two years hadn’t passed at all. That somehow calmed Miranda and she arched an expectant eyebrow at the brunette before adding in an eye roll for good measure, sighing impatiently.
“The Village. I-I live in the Village…between West 4th and West 12th ,” Andrea said, stuttering.
Some things never changed, Miranda thought, pleased. She looked out of the window, watching as snowflakes began to flutter to the ground, plastering themselves against the window before disappearing. It reminded her of the many people that had come and gone in her life. Andrea was supposed to be one of them, but instead she was like an unmovable chunk of ice. God, when had she become so maudlinly poetic? She could feel the girl’s gaze on her. It burned her everywhere it touched and she closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations she’d been without for two long years.
Andrea cleared her throat, drawing blue eyes to her. “Um…well…see…I…not that I’m not appreciative of it, but was there some reason you…you…offered to drive me home?”
Was there a reason? Miranda really had none for this uncharacteristic “stroke of genius” save for the fact that after seeing Andrea with that woman, her obsession had only grown. The need to see her, talk to her, smell her, would no longer be ignored and Nigel’s words had sent her right over the edge. But she could no more tell Andrea that than she could tell her that there hadn’t been a day that went by in the past two years that she hadn’t missed her terribly.
“Well Andrea, it is too cold for you to go traipsing about New York in such a thin jacket.” Miranda sniffed, realizing even as the words had failed to do their job. She was Miranda Priestly, and as such, never gave thought to such things. And as the quiet settled between them, she could almost hear Andrea’s journalistic curiosity being piqued.
“You, Miranda Priestly, were concerned about my well being? We haven’t even spoken in two years and considering how things…ended between us, I would think my well being would be the last thing on your mind.” Andrea arched her eyebrow in amusement, meeting Miranda’s gaze head on. Gone was the nervous second assistant. Now the confident journalist sat before her and Miranda didn’t think it was possible, but she fell a little more.
“Perhaps this is my one good deed for the day.” Miranda slipped her glasses back on, unable to hide her small grin.
Andrea smiled back, causing the editor’s breathing to go a little shallow. “Have you started scheduling those in now? In between assigning impossible tasks to your assistants and making grown men cry?”
“I find that it sort of balances things out,” Miranda kept her expression straight and Andrea’s smile only grew brighter and the older woman’s heart ached.
“I bet.” Andrea turned and looked out of her window.
She allowed herself to look at Andrea for the first time since she gotten into the car. The off the rack trench fit her frame perfectly and what she could see of Andrea’s outfit was a far cry from the disaster she’d been wearing the first day they met. Her once long, dark locks had been cut stylishly, stopping just below her chin, making her features all the more striking. Miranda’s fingers itched to touch the glossy strands. Never had she ever wanted to touch another person more than she seemed to want to feel Andrea’s skin beneath her fingertips. Not that she would. She wasn’t sure what she’d been trying to accomplish with this little trip, but it wasn’t to end up more confused. Everything was so different now. Andrea was different and it had little to do with her haircut or new clothes. And Miranda found herself at a loss of what to say or do because her heart seemed to be forming a mutiny against her brain and that was never a good sign.
“Miranda,” Andrea uttered softly. “What is this all about?”
“I’ve missed you,” Miranda whispered back, surprised by the words. It wasn’t what she’d been planning to say. She hadn’t planned to say anything at all. And certainly not the truth.
Andrea turned and looked at her, her dark eyes wide, her mouth agape. Miranda was thankful for the glasses. Her heartbeat wildly and she had to turn away because Andrea had yet to utter a single word and she couldn’t stand to watch the rejection.
They rode in silence the rest of the way. Miranda silently berated herself for her stupidity. Forget about the Book, she was going to go home and get good and drunk. She didn’t care that it wasn’t healthy. She’d do anything to drown out the pain that was settling into her heart, making her feel unbearably cold.
Roy came to a stop and Andrea turned to her. She opened her mouth to say something. Apologize probably, but Miranda cut her off. “Goodnight Andrea.” The girl continued to sit there, just staring. Miranda couldn’t stand it. She turned slowly, facing the journalist who still looked as frightened as a deer caught in headlights. “That’s all.”
That seemed to spur her into action. She grabbed at the handle of the door Roy had opened and instead of getting out of the car, she pulled it shut, facing the editor. “God Miranda, you just…and you…you’re so infuriating. Do you know that? You’re just so fucking infuriating!”
Miranda’s eyes widened in surprise. How dare this girl say such things to her when she’d all but bared her soul? She opened her mouth to say just that, only to feel Andrea press her lips softly against her own. The kiss was soft and sweet and ended far too soon for her liking. Then just like that, Andrea was pulling back. She opened the door and was half the way out of the door before she turned back around.
“I’ve missed you too,” she said, pressing a card into Miranda’s palm. “Merry Christmas, Miranda.” And then she was gone. Roy scrambled back to the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb.
Miranda looked down at the card in her hand. It had Andrea’s phone number at work and her cell. A smile touched Miranda’s lips that still tingled. Merry Christmas indeed.