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Chapter Text

6th June, 1994

"You're walking down the streets and everyone is wearing jeans and t-shirts," the reporter stated and Miranda smiled under her nose being amused by the question to some extent. "So, what's fashion?"

She leaned back in her chair slightly and tilted her head up, and smiled, knowing that the camera would be on her in this part, and with a quick movement of her head she got rid of one lock of hair that was stubbornly falling back into the same place, right above her eye.

This wasn't her first interview, of course. As the editor-in-chief of Runway for several years, she had graced countless covers and penned numerous stories, yet her first cover still attracted the most attention, a nostalgic topic for many journalists. Miranda didn't mind and welcomed the interest, recalling fond memories of those early years.

"Jeans and t-shirts can be equally fashionable as a Óscar De La Renta ball gown. It's all about styling, truly," she explained and raised her right hand to stop the surprised reporter from interrupting her. "You don't need to buy all the designer, diamond-studded clothes to qualify as someone who knows what is what. The truth is, anything can be elevated into something fashionable — an outfit or accessory that turns heads and sets trends."

"Do you think women are still interested in fashion? It seems that simplest clothing is now at the top. People stopped going after the extravagant."

"Oh, I think women love fashion," she assured with a chuckle. "Fashion is for everyone, whether you're interested in modern pieces from the designers, who are only starting to blossom, or if you love to look at yourself in the classic Chanel from 1926 It's not just about what you put on your back, but mainly about how."

"Don't you think that women would want to see something that they can relate to? Runway is the favourite fashion magazine of the most of us," she asked, although Miranda sensed a bit of an acrimonious remark in the journalists voice. Her eyes lit up at the little challenge placed in front of her, and a sly smile formed.

Lately, she had been encountering more questions that, while wrapped in praise, carried an underlying sting. Perhaps it was a reflection of society's discomfort with powerful women who dared to own their success, who weren't ashamed of it. Television and newspapers thrived on this narrative, as if it were an outdated relic, despite the fact that most women now had the freedom to pursue their ambitions — it wasn't 1962 anymore, for God's sake. The reality was, unfortunately, that many still preferred not to discuss these shifts on national platforms.

But Miranda Priestly wasn't made to not be seen. She has built her own empire step by step. Through hard work and determination. She went a long way to become who she was, and she'd be damned if she'd ever feel threatened by men. Miranda was proud, because she knew, that what she had, was something to be proud of. Men in power didn't like women capable of challenging them — it was a well known fact.

While she expected the negative approach from men, the response from some women surprised, and cut her deeper than she expected. Before becoming editor-in-chief of Runway, she admired those who were in that seat before her. She yearned to be one of them, to change the fashion industry to what she believed was right. They were Miranda's inspiration since she was old enough to have one. That's why it stung her so hard, right in the chest, when she received so much backlash for simlpy being good.

She was shocked by how many lies, how many hasty, false things Page Six loved to write about her, simply because she was a woman, who wouldn't just shut up about being successful, but was embracing it instead. The media's relentless focus on her personal life was a bitter pill to swallow.

Not everyone was like that, of course, but there were people, like the one who was interviewing her, who judged her according to their own small-town beliefs. Miranda Priestly was not a woman born to spend her life at home raising children, and bending her knees for a husband. If in this day and age, it was still considered a flaw, then, well, she could only feel sorry for all of them.

"Runway is all about the illusion," Miranda asserted, forcing herself to respond calmly despite the reporter's sneer. "There is no point in denying, that what we're showing to you is not a day-to-day life of every woman. People don't read our magazine to see a reflection of the reality that surrounds them every day. They want something beyond their previous experiences, and that's what we provide. Runway is meant to inspire. It's meant to let the people in, to a completely different world in which the clothes are the only thing that can tell you a story without using any words."

In her early days as editor, Miranda had faced thousands of similar interviews, often encountering the same repetitive questions. She had given the audience what they wanted, thinking it was the best way to build her career in the U.S. Yet, after years of experience, she realized that while people claimed to want something new, they often clung to the familiar. Embracing change meant relinquishing control, which most found daunting.

They were anchored in the past, because it was full of things that they already knew. Reaching for something more meant that they'd be able to give up control, and they weren't.

Fashion was all about creating something new. It was a constant process, a perpetual cycle of creativity, and Miranda was the voice at the forefront. The papers didn't like the idea of ​​that kind of woman having this much impact in their world. They considered her 'too cold' to be seen as a respectable woman, because she didn't fit their mold or what in their minds feminity really meant. Miranda couldn't care less. The truth was, that no matter what she'd do, Page Six created the narrative for her, and they were going to stick with it, whether she liked it or not.

Two years ago she did her duty as a woman and gave birth to two beautiful girls. The chaos that ensued when the news broke of her pregnancy and subsequent childbirth was overwhelming. Paparazzi had swarmed her and trapped in their relentless pursuit. Miranda still felt that terror and fear for the safety of her own children, when she remembered driving back home from the hospital after giving birth. How the vultures were waiting for them outside the house. The screaming photographers, flashing cameras, and the cries of her newborns. The next day, Page Six published a photo of her shielding one of her daughters from the blinding lights, branding her one of the worst mothers without giving her a chance.

Less than two years had passed since then and Miranda still felt that bitter taste in her mouth and anger at herself for believing them in the first place. Now, after the experience, that she managed to gather with her children, she finally understood that every day was actually her first. It was her first time being pregnant, her first time raising children — two at once. She was learning how to be a mother every day.

Miranda was not one of those people who could not fulfil someone's expectations — she always aimed above them. Therefore, the weight of failure and the feeling of it settled on her shoulders so much, that she spent many nights crying on her husband's shoulder, afraid that she would not be able to cope as a mother. There was so many doubts...

So now, sitting in front of one of those, who definitely considered her a degenerate mother and a degenerate woman, she had difficulty keeping a pleasant smile on her face for the people watching. A few times she even found herself wanting to sit on both of her hands to stop them from shaking, but she didn't, of course. Even if the cameras didn't catch it, that damn reporter would, and Miranda couldn't afford that.

"You said once; 'fashion is in constant development, there is nothing permanent about it'. It was at the beginning of your career here, in New York. How do those words resonate with you now? Has your opinion changed? I mean, your hair for example — it remains the same, so doesn't that contradict your statement?"

"Oh, I know, it's rather boring, and I should probably try something new," she joked, her fingers absently playing with her hair. "But to answer your question: I still believe fashion is always evolving. Trends do resurface, but that doesn't mean we should change everything. If something works, why fix it? In terms of the artistry presented on the runways, there's nothing repetitive about that."

"I guess it is the Miranda Priestly look," the reporter replied with a smile on her face and glanced at the notes on her lap.

Miranda was grateful for this moment to herself and exhaled quietly under her nose. Years of experience had taught her that interviews often felt more like interrogations than conversations, with journalists fixated on their prepared questions rather than engaging with her responses. Perhaps her expectations were too high — she had been accused of that more than once — but it was still nice to have at least some hope towards change and then a genuine exchange between her and the press.

Still, Miranda was grateful for these short breaks. Interviews were incredibly stressful for her and seemed to expose her too much to the public eye. She liked her space, liked being separated from others by a thick wall, and with the camera pointed straight at her face, it didn't escape her notice how much she was, in fact, exposed.

"You are described as being needy, competitive, a perfectionist and, forgive me, a bitch in heels. How would you respond to that? They say there's a grain of truth in every story, so how did you come to be attributed to such traits?"

Miranda smirked under her nose and looked down briefly to fix the hem of her skirt before raising her gaze back to the journalist. It was evidently time for the press's favourite question: 'What does Miranda Priestly think about being a bitch?'

"Let's see..." She started and crossed her legs, leaning more comfortably in the chair, and with her left hand she grabbed one of the beads around her neck, fingering it. She liked to have some fun with answering to that. "I am very driven and competitive, that's true. Am I needy? Perhaps, after all I demand perfection every single time from all the people I work with, so you can already check me being a perfectionist. What else?"

"A bitch," the reporter said bluntly.

Miranda hummed and smiled wider now, only to cover a silent sting she felt at that term. It was rather bold, to just call her that in her face, even if it was under the disguise of the innocent question. Miranda wasn't stupid, she knew when she was sitting across someone who did not like her one bit, and she could certainly admit, that she felt the same way. The difference between them was that she was able to behave professionally, to give satisfactory answers. The woman who called herself a journalist, sitting across from her, had no self-control or tact, let alone respect.

"Ah, of course." She laughed but there was no humour in it, not really. She decided to savour every single word, dropping her voice by a half-tone, being sure, that this pitiful reporter could feel the temperature of the room drop a little. "Miranda Priestly, the famous devil in heels. You know, I like to think of myself as a woman from whom readers demand a perfect issue of my magazine every month, and I deliver on that promise. Do you really blame me for demanding perfection from my employees as well? In all seriousness, I have to be tough in this industry. I'm looking for people who are able to handle the pressure, and if they can't, well, it was nice knowing them."

The reporter swallowed a little louder than before, most likely sensing the steely note in Miranda's voice.

"So," she cleared her throat, "Being an editor is kind of like being a dictator in the eyes of many, do you agree with that?"

Miranda stopped moving her fingers and placed the beads back around her neck. She glanced down at the notes in the lap of the woman sitting across from her, and then returned her gaze to her eyes. It was a good decision to invite them to her office — she was at home, so she overwhelmed them not only with her presence, but also with her surroundings.

The question was rather stupid.

"It's a collaboration of talented individuals presenting ideas. I'm simply the one who decides what fits best for each issue."

"But there are so many possibilities! I'm sure that people that are working with you, are all very talented and a lot of stuff, that doesn't go into the print, could be..."

"No, no," she interjected, raising a finger. "What you see in print is the best. There's no other option."

With that, the atmosphere in the room shifted, a testament to the power of her presence and the determination that had defined her career.

21th September, 1997

"What about that coldness of yours? The public sees you as this unreachable person, who looks at them from up above."

Miranda chuckled at that statement and could honestly admit that there was some genuine amusement in it. Less than a decade ago, she took over the helm of Runway in New York, which meant that her own reputation sometimes preceded her. Common sense would tell her to disagree, but ego told her that in the span of nearly a decade, she had modernized not only the magazine, but the world of fashion itself and the way it was perceived.

If people saw her as cold and unapproachable — so be it. She keeps her true self for her five-year-old daughters and husband. Miranda saw no need to let the rest of the world into her private life any more than they already allowed themselves to.

"My coldness, as you put it, is a reflection of my focus at work. People I work with — some for many years — have not yet run away screaming," the reporter laughed and sloppily adjusted his glasses. "There's on duty time, and off duty time; what you see is me doing my job and that's all that there is to it."

"Don't you want people to like you?" he asked and Miranda couldn't stop the look of shock on her face. "Well, don't get me wrong, I think you're doing an incredible job, but don't you think that there's a way to be... both?"

Reporters rarely surprised her with questions, but it seemed the cheeky ones would always throw her off her pace. She hid it with a wide, fake smile by tilting her head slightly and didn't miss how the reporter's gaze briefly dropped to her bust line.

To beat a man all you needed was to be a woman, truly.

"I want people to like what I do, and until now, I would say I'm excelling at it. How I do it stays between me and people working with me."

"There's a lot of people who were employed by you, and they have a lot to say, do you have a response for them?"

"What would you like me to say to that? I think everyone has many opinions on many topics and many people. There is a lot of new talent coming through Runway, but a lot of it doesn't stay for long if they're not able to cope with the fast pace of that particular life. It's the pressure of doing it all in time, before the issue goes to print that exhausts them, not me. I wouldn't be able to comment on every person who has worked with me, of course, but the ones who stand by my side for many years, they know me and my demands, which are justified."

"What about crushing people's dreams? There're thousands of them who'd kill to work for you, but not everyone gets a chance."

Indeed, the questions were becoming increasingly desperate, as if he were trying to corner her into a confession that would paint her in a negative light.

"Runway, and indeed the world of fashion, is built on dreams. I would be a hypocrite if I didn't acknowledge this; my own came true the moment I stepped through the doors of the Elias-Clarke building. Every new employee arrives with hope for a successful career, but some are more tangible than others. Dreams alone are not enough; this industry demands immense dedication and hard work, contrary to popular belief."

"It all seems like a fairytale in a way. Do you think that one of your responsibilities is to appear perfect? After all, you're a living example of that. You're the embodiment of fashion, of what people want to look like. I'm sure it's a heavy burden to be aware of... to carry."

Miranda knew that she was the personification of Runway, the face of a magazine that is full of often unattainable ideals. Who would she be if she didn't identify with it at least a little? She could be many things, but she was not the first to belittle her achievements. When people looked at her, they didn't see her as just a human being, who happens to work at Runway, but as a trendsetting icon, representing the perfection that everyone strives for.

Was it a heavy burden? Yes. Did she enjoy it? Absolutely.

"With my persona, I represent not only myself, as the biggest advocate for this industry, but also the people I works with. Runway is a translation for all of its readers, of the shows that not everyone can see the way we do. I have to look my part, of course, but that doesn't make me not love it just as much."

The reporter paused, seemingly calculating his thoughts, and from where she was seated, she could sense the shift in his approach. She had enough experience to know how far she could push the boundaries of this conversation. People were free to form their own opinions about her, but she had no intention of giving them additional fodder for mockery or disdain.

Miranda had been carefully modeling her persona for as long as she could remember, adopting habits and specific phrases that, after so many years, were associated with her signature gestures — synonymous with her. The man sitting opposite her was right in terms of her perfectionism. She showed what she wanted people to see and so far she's been doing great.

"'The Dragon Lady', what's up with that?" He asked suddenly, bringing her attention back to him.

She couldn't stop the sly smile that appeared on her lips, and after a while she decided that she didn't want to. It's better to let people see that the new nickname does not weaken her, in fact on the contrary — it strengthens her.

A week ago, an article about her appeared after one of her former assistants decided to give an anonymous interview. The press picked up on the new title and Miranda had a feeling that it would be one of those that would stick around for a long time. Ever since she first read the article, she had been considering sending a thank-you note to Stephanie, for doing her a free PR; she would probably have a heart attack, this poor girl.

"If being a successful woman makes me a 'dragon', then I'm happy to breathe fire," she replied, her tone playful yet resolute.

The reporter appeared momentarily taken aback, but she could see the glimmer of respect forming in his eyes. Miranda knew she had once again deflected the arrows aimed at her, and in doing so, had solidified her standing in the ever-evolving world of fashion.

3rd March, 2000

"Miranda, I'm so glad you agreed to this interview." The reporter began and Miranda nodded, returning the welcoming phrase.

It was the first interview this year that she agreed to. She had been avoiding them until now, after the fiery divorce. When the paparazzi managed to catch her in front of the Runway building or simply leaving the restaurant, questions were asked from all sides only about the former Mr. Priestly. The press was attacking her during family outings. The screams of these pseudo-journalists, the questions so brazen that Miranda was shocked that they were saying such words in front of children were haunting her at night.

Whatever they wrote about her and how they addressed her, she had deep ignorance for. Asking her daughters who they would prefer to live with after a divorce and 'why's' of others, who thought the girls would be better off with their dad was so outrageous, that Miranda was happy to pull some strings and get a few people fired from their positions.

No one, absolutely no one, had the right to drag Caroline and Cassidy into the papers; expose them to the public. They will only be eight years old this year, for God's sake. Miranda was aware of the fact that when she took over the position of editor-in-chief, she would expose herself to the public's sharp eyes for years. She was fine with that, because if that was the price for having to live her own dream — so be it. Her daughters, however, had never consented to anything, and neither did she intend to do it on their behalf.

The divorce was finalized late last year. Miranda had a rather poetic approach to it, being convinced that with the new millennium, her life would get better. The world was changing, people were changing and their views on successful women were also changing. But none of it would come that quickly and Miranda was aware of that. Despite everything, she had a glimmer of hope.

Good God, she lived on it.

"Let us start with a question that I'm sure is on the lips of many fans of the magazine, but also of the world of fashion itself. Do you have any big plans for this year's Met Gala? This will be your fifth year as the host of this fashion festival."

She smiled gently out of politeness, exhaling quietly through her nose. With shock, she realized how tense she was, and most likely would be, throughout this interview. As long as the questions were about her work, she would be happy to answer them all, but she didn't know how she would react if the reporter, with unnaturally, ugly, red hair, decided to ask about her private life.

"Well, I think I can tell you this year's theme, or at least give you a little of a secret," she leaned in gently, as if it were a secret being told to her closest friend. She was pleased to see that the reporter repeated the gesture. "This year's Met Gala will be all about subjectivity."

The reporter leaned back again, resting fully on the back of her chair. She thought about it for a moment. The truth was that there would be no theme; invited guests will come wearing what they wanted. She took into account how many of them would come in the simplest evening dresses, the men most likely in black, classic suits. In all honesty she didn't have high hopes.

"It sounds interesting and fresh, I can't wait to see what we will see on the red carpet this time. Now, I would like to ask about something that has been happening for some time. I am sure that with the first Monday of May there will be many opportunities to talk about surprising outfits and the event itself."

Miranda tensed, but didn't show it. Instead, she adjusted her skirt, and crossed her legs, knowing it wouldn't be visible on camera, and looked right into the eyes of the journalist.

"Of course."

"Can I ask you how you've been doing lately, Miranda? It's no secret that the divorce made a lot of headlines, and many of our audiences are wondering how it's affecting your daughters and you, our favourite Mother of Fashion."

Miranda felt her teeth clench tightly. She knew that sooner or later she would be asked about it, not only among the crowds on the street, but also in such an interview. She didn't expect them to move on to personal questions so quickly, but the reporters apparently thought it best to get straight to the point.

Miranda thought for a moment about getting up and leaving, because she had often expressed what she thought about questions of what was happening within the four walls of her home and also in the lives of her beloved children. For some reason, they all assumed that they were the special ones, to whom she would reveal her darkest secrets. She abandoned the idea of ​​interrupting the interview, knowing fully well how such behaviour would ultimately be seen, and instead settled on sending an icy smile towards the woman, along with raising one eyebrow.

She must have understood what Miranda was trying to tell her with that one gesture, because she unconsciously straightened up and clutched her notes in both hands.

"More people know about my divorce than I would like, it seems. I spent wonderful years with my, now, ex-husband and I wouldn't change them for anything. We made a joint decision that was the best for us and our daughters. That's all I have to say on this topic. I'm sure there are many other things you want to ask me."

Miranda moved her chin towards the notebook on which she could see at least two pages of written questions from a distance. She really hoped she wouldn't have to go through every single one of them.

"What do they think about their parents not being together any more?"

"I don't see how is that relevant to why we're here today."

Really, one would think that she would know when the topic was closed, and would know when not to pursue it further. Just a few years ago, Miranda would have tried to find the most polite way to avoid her question, maybe even share something. Now, after so many years of experience and putting up with the press, there were moments where she had to draw a new, thick line, especially for journalists who decided to ignore the already existing one.

Over the years, it was impossible not to notice the difference with which she was treated. At first, a lost, young woman who, before she was even thirty, found herself at the head of a fashion magazine. After several years of working in Paris as a junior editor of Chic magazine, she was sent to the United States to take the place she had dreamed of since childhood. Only with time did she start to be looked at as someone worth paying attention to. She looked more serious now, after she dyed her hair completely, following her body's decision, and her friend's advice. Miranda was a woman who wasn't afraid of old age and how she had already changed compared to when she was only twenty. Why dye your hair, if you can greet it as if aging was your good friend? It was a perfect move for her, because the hair had became her trademark. With her appearance and chilling gaze, she initially gained the respect and recognition of others; now it comes naturally and without any difficulty.

So she had no problem with escaping reprehensible behaviour, even when it was an interview, and not just another meeting in her office. She quickly learned that raising her voice is a disastrous path and in order for people to actually listen to what she has to say, she must lead to a situation in which they will do everything to hear her. One sentence or look was enough to bring everyone to order.

Just like now;

"Oh, um, yes, of course! We absolutely do not have to talk about this. It's just that a lot of..."

"I'm sure that your audience is way more interested in the upcoming plans I have for Runway than two seven-year-olds."

"Yes, Miranda.

30th November, 2004

"Congratulations on your wedding! I wish you and Mr. Tomlinson much happiness!"

Miranda nodded her thanks and smiled in a practised way. She did everything to make sure there was as little press buzz as possible around her wedding. She didn't want it big; she had already done one, as had her new husband, and they both decided they didn't need anything spectacular. After all, she was already forty-two years old — the last thing she dreamed of, was a big party. If she could, she would get it done at the office within fifteen minutes and go back to work.

She probably should have been more grateful, appreciating the kind words from anyone who had something to say about her marriage, but the truth was... she didn't care.

At the end of the day, Miranda really felt that she deserved to find someone after all this time, because she was simply... lonely. Despite her reputation, she was, unfortunately, only a human, and needed the warmth she could only get from a man. Her daughters did what they could. Many evenings, that she managed to spend at home, they took care of her, told her stories, hugged her, kissed her, but something was still missing. Of course, she appreciated their efforts, how they had helped her right after her divorce from their father, even if they didn't fully realise it themselves.

But then Stephen showed up.

Stephen, who could make her laugh, always had his possessive arm around her, who made her feel attractive again, who bragged about her left and right, as if he himself couldn't believe that Miranda wanted to be with him — that she was interested.

However, just before the wedding, doubts arose.

She found a lipstick in the car. The most common one, blood-red, which she would never buy herself, because the colour did not suit her at all. She ignored it, telling herself that maybe she had such lipstick after all, that she simply didn't remember since she had so many of them. The truth was that she knew perfectly well what this meant, having already lived through that, but she decided to marry him anyway. The fear of loneliness was much greater than her hurt pride if her current husband slept with another, probably younger, woman from time to time.

"Thank you, for your kind words, Julie." She nodded, and took away the unruly curl with the movement of her head. It was one of those interviews where she didn't have to stress because she knew this journalist well, and knew that she could expect only professionalism from her. "What information do you want to get out of me this time?"

Julie laughed and smiled warmly, sitting a little more comfortably in her chair. She put her notes aside, Miranda smiled inwardly, and a series of questions flowed from her lips.

8th October, 2006

"So, Miranda, I want to know everything! Let's start with this; what do you think about Paris Fashion Week this year?"

Miranda swallowed hard.

The question itself wasn't out of place, in fact it was one that she knew would be asked often in upcoming interviews. Still, chocolate doe-eyes appeared in her mind for a split second, and a sharp twinge in her heart quickened her heart rate. The knowledge that she would never see them again weighed heavily on her, but she did her best to push those thoughts to the back of her mind. The last thing she needed now was another nervous breakdown and a wave of tears.

"It couldn't have gone any better."

Chapter Text

ANDREA

"Shit!" Andy muttered as she hit another person on the crowded street. "I'm sorry!" she called over her shoulder, though she doubted that they cared.

She turned back and moved her legs quickly in an awkward kind-of-sprint. Four oversized bags filled with samples banged against her shoulders, sliding off every few steps and colliding into each other. Andy tried to shrug them back into place, but it only threw her off balance. In one hand she was holding two big bags of Hermès scarfs, and in the other, she was trying to hold two venti coffees so that they wouldn't overflow and dirty the lid.

Every step felt like a calculated risk.

It was the middle of April, and yet, the temperature was deadly. The sun's rays seemed to reach every corner of the city, leaving no shade. Just thick, suffocating hear against Andy's skin.

 The wind also became a distant memory as the air stood still that day. Andy was almost sure that in addition to feeling it, she could even see with her own eyes and smell the steaming asphalt and melting car tires. Clothes clung to her, and she wore as little as possible to still look neat at work. Beads of sweat running down her back, Andy felt as gross as she could be. She was out of breath from running all over the city, which added to the general discomfort and pain in her feet, with each step she felt her newest Jimmy Choo high heels pressing against her toes, along with a burning sensation in her throat.

She wanted to kill Emily.

Andy had asked her — several times, in fact — the previous day if there was anything Miranda wanted, as she had taken care of everything much quicker than one might think. Emily assured her that no, told her to calm down and shut up, and go back to work at her desk, so she could go to no-lunch.

So, like an idiot, Andy didn't question it.

One would think that Emily, with the experience she had in this job and being Andy's constant reminder that she was the first assistant — which made her so much better — would never forget anything.

It turned out that Emily had, in fact, forgotten about those damn scarves, as well as the Lacoste samples Miranda had requested the previous day, so Andy was the one to go on a mission to get them before their boss would come to work.

 Unfortunately, as is usually the case, the metro was delayed by a false report of a bomb, and there was an accident on one of the main streets, so taking a taxi was out of the question, as were buses. Meaning: she had to reach all of those destinations on foot, and that day Andy decided to wear one of the least comfortable high heels, convinced that she would spend most of the day behind the desk because she had taken care of everything she had to do in advance. The only time she would go out would be to get a coffee, or if Miranda wanted something bat-shit crazy, or if Emily forgot about those damn scarves...

Now, drenched in sweat, lungs burning, heart hammering, Andy ended up feeling like she had run up and down New York several times in terms of miles and was barely alive. She was breathing heavily, panting, fighting for each breath. Still, she didn't slow down and even managed to pick up the pace as she rounded the bend and finally found herself on the street where the Elias-Clarke building stood. Finally.

But before she ran inside, she stopped in the doorway and touched both of the coffees with her hand, groaning loudly when she felt that they were almost completely cold. 

Of course they had to be freaking cold!

She left the bags with Frank, the security guard. "Please," she asked him desperatly. "I'll kiss you if you'll look after these!"

Frank just chuckled, shaking his head, but took the bags anyway.

Andy spun on her heel and run toward the nearest Starbucks. In the rhythm of her Jimmy Choo's, the previous lack of self-confidence rose again within.

She was aware that she hadn't done anything wrong, and that for her work, her dedication, was unquestionable. It was situations like these that made the old Andy come to the surface. The one who just started working as the second assistant to Miranda Priestly, the editor-in-chief of the best fashion magazine. The one who had no idea what she was signing up for and especially didn't know how much this job would require from her. 

Andy got angry with herself in moments like these because despite being much more confident than before, despite knowing how good she was at what she did, sometimes she felt so small and useless and it was all just because she was saving Emily's skin, even though she didn't have to.

She glanced at the watch on her wrist and almost squealed because Miranda would be arriving in a moment. She noticed with horror that a silver Mercedes had already appeared on the horizon, and a moment later she felt her phone vibrate — most likely a text message from Roy that they were already approaching.

Andy accelerated, flew like crazy into Starbucks, already taking out her wallet. "One no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot!" 

Monica, that was already familiar with the order as well as with stressed Andy, gave her the coffe and smiled, wishing her good luck.

God knows she needed that.

She swallowed under her breath and sped up again, moving smoothly through the revolving doors, in time to grab the bags from Frank. Ignoring the slight cramp in her calf she caught up, ha!, she was even a moment ahead of Miranda and called for the elevator.

And then she was her. Her heels clicking, her hair perfectly styled, sunglasses covering her probably bored eyes and no trace of smile.

"Good morning, Miranda!" She greeted her nicely, using all her energy to control herself because she wanted to lie on the floor and cry and pant heavily.

Miranda looked her up and down and gave a barely visible nod. Andy knew she couldn't count on anything more from her, so she swallowed hard and focused on steadying her breathing. At the very beginning, she was waiting like crazy for Miranda's opinion on her new clothes. It didn't matter that just a few months ago she had no idea this woman existed — common sense told her that if anyone in the world was to judge her attire, Miranda Priestly was the most qualified person to do so.

Now she appreciated even the smallest nod.

"Why are you here?"

What?

Andy blinked rapidly, not understanding the question at first, but then her brain returned to its normal pace. She wanted to tell the truth, that Emily had forgotten the scarves and everything else, which made her gain the training of a seasoned marathon runner, but she held her tongue. 

"There was a long line at Starbucks, the machine broke down, so..."

Miranda looked sour, clearly uninterested in further explanations, and waved her hand carelessly. Andy swallowed hard, and at that moment the elevator doors rang and three people came out, and Miranda quickly took their place inside.

"Well?" Miranda looked at her meaningfully and moved with her head to come inside.

Andy felt her legs begin to work before she realized what she was doing and soon she was standing next to her boss. She wasn't sure if she should give her the coffee or not, but Miranda quickly answered her silent question and grabbed the cup. Andy swallowed hard and tried not to stare as Miranda tilted it and took a slow sip. 

The older woman lowered the cup, her lips lifted just a little, but then her gaze flicked toward Andy for a second and it was gone.

 Swallowing hard she started counting down the remaining floors. After last time, she knew to keep quiet, because the last thing Miranda wanted to hear — especially in the morning — was her blabbering.

The elevator rang softly, signalling it was time to get off, and Andy quickly followed Miranda, barely able to keep up with writing down all the instructions for the day. For some reason, she didn't think to take out her notebook while inside, which she quickly started to blame herself for, because really; after working here for so long, she should have known that later she would only make a fool of herself trying to keep everything in her hands. 

Miranda must have been in a superb mood because she didn't comment on Andy's pathetic attempts to keep up with her and instead headed straight for her office.

"Where have you been?" Emily hissed and hurriedly stood up from behind her desk and walked over to Andy, getting some of the bags from her hands.

"You tell me, it wasn't me who forgot about-"

"Emily, where are the samples I asked for yesterday?"

Emily swallowed hard and looked at Andy, who rolled her eyes and lifted the bags so they could both get them inside.

They left the bags on two chairs in front of Miranda's desk and evacuated quickly. She felt a cold gaze on her back as she walked back to her seat.

"Why do you look like you've just run a marathon?" Emily asked and for the first time Andy felt a sudden urge to murder someone.

Sitting down, she ignored her and turned on her computer.

Andy took out her notebook and placed it nearby so that if she needed to write down notes, she wouldn't have to waste any time. Andy sent another cold glance towards Emily, most likely to feel better about herself; the morning was terrible, and this was only the beginning. She had a long day ahead of her.

When she started working at Runway, she had no idea who Miranda was and honestly, she didn't think she would ever understand the phenomenon that the woman was in the eyes of many.

She quickly realized her mistake.

Well, maybe not that quickly, because the beginnings were rather difficult, not to mention downright unbearable. Miranda was demanding to the extreme and beyond. Her orders were impossible to follow, her deadlines absurd. Andy's only impression was that Miranda Priestly was a narcissistic and sociopathic woman who had made it this far in the industry by causing terror.

Andy couldn't have been more wrong.

She still thought of Miranda as a narcissist, as someone who thought far too highly of herself. But after working for her for so long — half a year that felt like at least a decade — Andy was able to see what others saw in her. Perhaps not to the point of being completely blinded by Miranda and her achievements, because it was Emily's thing, but she could finally appreciate the craftsmanship of her work. 

Now, with experience, she gained respect and understanding for the work Miranda did and even her methods. Yes, her sharp tongue and frequent knocking down of employees, sometimes with just one word, could be considered sadistic, but Andy had to admit with a heavy heart that she found some of them even funny, but she blamed it on exhaustion and being in the close proximity of that woman every day. As her assistant and therefore an eyewitness to her everyday life, she was able to justify many of her behaviours.

Andy had no idea when exactly she had reached the point where she had gone from mocking Miranda to defending her from any third-party attack. Nate pointed this out to her and with a heavy heart she had to admit that he was right, despite her initial disagreement. She simply couldn't go back to the bitterness and impatience of her first days at Runway, when she had already seen so much and understood even more. Andy wouldn't be able to work for Miranda if she didn't share her determination and pursuit of perfection, otherwise she would be wasting both her and Miranda's time, and she knew how much they both disliked it.

Despite all these, she still thought that Miranda was one of the most annoying people she had ever met and it seemed impossible for Andy to like her on a personal level. Of course, she didn't know her that way, but the woman didn't seem to have a single personal relationship; even the one with her children in Andy's eyes seemed very stiff and unnatural.

She also tried to have a normal relationship with Emily. She tried to talk and find out some common interests, but the British woman quickly explained to her that they had none. She finally came to the conclusion that any chance of an even bearable relationship between them was gone the moment she first walked into the Elias-Clarke building, smelling of onion bagels branded her in Emily's mind and the 'fat one'.

Now her relationship with Emily has improved somewhat. Andy lost some weight even if mainly through the lack of time to eat rather than a particular diet. The nickname was no longer used by anyone. 

She actually felt great. Her face became slimmer, her breasts were a little smaller, and although they were still full and larger than most of the staff at Runway, they felt amazing. The clothes fit her perfectly, and Nate didn't spare her compliments and long glances, which weren't so common when she was a size bigger. She felt good, getting used to her new routine.

"What?" Emily snapped, breaking Andy from her thoughts and the gaze still fixed on the redhead.

Andy blinked once and twice and decided to just say nothing. She had concluded that of all the bad options, the least bad was letting Emily nag and not talking to herself at all unless it was about work.

Andy turned the keys in the lock and the jingling sound echoed in the hall.

She was exhausted.

She turned the doorknob and entered the apartment quietly. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she took off her high heels and lined them up against the wall, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise. It was still before nine in the evening, but Andy knew how tired Nate had been lately. He told her more than once how the traffic in his restaurant had recently doubled.

She put her purse on a small stool standing next to the door against the wall, took off her earrings, and walked into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and took a deep breath after taking a long sip.

"Andy?"

She turned around suddenly, startled by the unexpected presence. She was sure Nate was already asleep, tired from work. Lately, when she came home in the evenings, she found him in bed.

"Hi," she whispered and turned to face him, setting the glass down on the counter. "I thought you were sleeping?"

Nate stood in the doorway, eyes sleepy, curls tousled.

"I heard you come in wanted to say hello," he replied and, running his hand through his hair, took a few steps towards her and placed a nice kiss on her lips. "How was work?"

"Tiring as always, but peaceful."

"No way, Miranda is on vacation?"

Andy looked at him scoldingly, but then she kissed him again. She walked deeper into the apartment and sat down heavily on the couch, tucking her legs under her, and soon Nate joined her, handing her a mug of wine.

"Mmm, my favourite," Andy took a sip and chuckled lightly, turning the mug twice in her hands. They had never got around to buying the right vessels for different alcohols. "The cheap one."

Nate gave her a crooked smile and moved a little closer to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Andy pressed her face into his hand, and they sat there in silence for a moment.

They rarely had the opportunity to spend time together like this. Such evenings used to be normal, their routine, the most ordinary standard, but in recent months they have learned to appreciate such moments because they have become a rarity. They were both tired.

Andy felt a little guilty about these thoughts, but she couldn't get it out of her head that she was even a little grateful that Nate was working late as well. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him, on the contrary, she missed the days they spent entirely together. But with the job she had and the demands placed on her, she was glad that it wasn't a hundred percent her fault. How little they saw of each other, despite living under the same roof.

She and Lily talked a lot about it, and she couldn't help but feel bad, that her childhood friend didn't fully support her. Nate was getting more understanding from her; his late hours made more sense than Andy's. Maybe it was because Lily missed her friend too, or maybe Nate's career was more exciting to her than whatever Andy was working on. His was taken more seriously by others.

Being an assistant wasn't Andy's dream job. This was just one of many stages in her life that she was about to go through. She knew what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be, and if running around New York with bags full of designer scarves was going to help her self-development, she didn't mind.

In fact, it was Doug who best understood the dedication she had begun to show for her work. He knew who Miranda was, he knew what influence she had on the world of not only journalism, but general pop culture. He had been reading Runway long before Andy even decided to look at one of the covers. She was glad to have such support from at least one of her friends. While she understood why there was reluctance and a certain lack of understanding from the other two, at least one person supporting her one hundred percent was welcome.

"What about you?" Andy asked and after finishing her wine, she placed the glass on the table in front of them and turned fully to face him. "What magic did you cook today?"

Nate's eyes lit up suddenly, the way they always did when he could talk about his passion. He shifted on the couch and smiled broadly, and Andy had no choice but to lose herself in his eyes and listen with interest.

Andy has always been a good listener. 

Hearing other people's stories, no matter what the topic, always made her happy. Watching people beam, how their faces light up, how their smiles completely change their features as soon as they start talking about something they enjoy, was very uplifting for Andy. Passionate people were her favourite type of people.

Probably the only exception was Miranda.

Andy saw her talking about her passion every day. She watched as she looked through the designs of future collections sent to her, as she moved dresses or jackets on hangers with her slender hands during a particular run-through. Miranda lived in her passion, she breathed it every day, but at the same time she was always focused. Andy didn't see that sparkle in her that she loved to look for in other people's eyes. Miranda was pure professionalism and sometimes even boredom or dissatisfaction, because her expectations of perfection were never met by others. She was sure that Miranda had no shortage of passion, although there were days when she wished she could see it with her own eyes instead of just knowing about it.

"Some steaks, a mountain of fries, and I feel like I spent most of my shift stirring sauces in pots," Nate laughed briefly, and Andy was surprised to see that it was one of those days when they wouldn't talk much. Normally he'd go on and on about every single dish.

"Everything okay?" She asked and frowned slightly, looking between his eyes, looking for some clue.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I just miss you," he confessed and grabbed both of Andy's hands in his. "I know we both work, but I feel like we haven't seen each other much lately..."

Andy swallowed hard, feeling the guilt slowly wash her in. It pours over her bit by bit and from second to second she felt as if her whole body was collapsing on the couch, getting heavier and heavier.

She hated these conversations. Each time she felt worse, and Nate, as if he knew it, returned to the topic constantly, circling around it without a second of break. She has told him many times how bad it is that they have such limited time together and that she wishes it were different. She explained that it was only a year! Nate said he understood, and Andy had a feeling he did; only a child wouldn't understand, but he liked to bring it up again and again, as if complaining would make him feel better about it all; as if reminding Andy that her job was the problem would give him some peace of mind.

"And I get it. You have your job, I have mine. I don't want to blame you for it, but I just wish we could manage it in a better way."

Andy nodded slowly and broke their eye contact. She understood where such words came from, she would like to go home much faster, to be able to spend this time with Nate after work. So that they can go to the cinema or to a restaurant together, ha!, even just for a simple walk through the dirty streets of New York. However, she had no influence on it, at least not as much as she would like. Not yet.

"I know that, Nate, we've already talked about this, you know that..." she began in a whisper.

"Oh my God, I don't want to fight about it," Nate interrupted her suddenly, letting go of her hands and placing them in his own lap.

Andy closed her mouth, feeling a little faint in shock at the sudden edge to his voice. Did she say something wrong?

"I know what you told me, I remember that conversation like it was yesterday, I'm just saying that I wish it were different."

Andy swallowed and nodded slowly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that appeared in her stomach as Nate began to whine. Every time he started acting like this, Andy felt like she wanted to grimace and take a few steps back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I would like it too."

She wanted to say something else, but decided it was better not to. So far, things have been really nice between them, and she would like to keep it that way. She wanted to avoid another argument at all costs, for which she was sure she would blame herself for a long time.

Andy leaned her hip lightly against the printer as she waited patiently until all thirty pages were ready. Emily had gone to Calvin Klein with Miranda, so Andy's job was to keep an eye on the phones. She was close enough to the desk that she could easily hear the phone ringing and answer it in time.

Despite the crazy morning, this day was one of the calmest. Miranda remained in a decent mood, everyone still had their jobs, and overall everything was going rather smoothly.

Nigel hadn't come to see her once that day, but Andy knew she would get a visit from him sooner or later. He had passed by twice so far, giving her a strange look that she decided to put in the apologetic category, and immediately run away in the other direction. Despite her initial confusion, Andy decided to ignore it, confident that in time she would figure out what was going on.

The printer made a few sounds; the evidence that it had finished work. Andy grabbed the printed sheets and returned to the desk, sitting in the chair and pushing herself forward twice with her feet. She quickly checked her phone to see if she had received any messages from Emily, but when it turned out that there were no urgent tasks to do, she went back to emailing the assistants of everyone who had been invited to this year's Met Gala.

As she sent the standard formulas, occasionally typing in a joke she shared with a particular assistant, Andy smiled to herself. She liked this job. She rarely had free time, she was usually overtired, and the only time she was in her apartment was when she hit her head on the pillow. Still, after all the experiences she had had so far, she found herself waking up with a smile on her face.

When she and Nate had just moved to New York, she spent many days looking for a job at a newspaper. Of course, she realized that she was just starting in this business, so it wouldn't be easy, but she didn't think it would be this hard. After some time, she decided to apply anywhere. Her parents wouldn't have sent her to such a big city without money, but it too would to end someday. Finding a job was her priority, even if it wasn't at, say, The New York Times. Finally, the phone with a call from Elias-Clarke buzzed in her pocket, and even though it was an assistant job, she immediately asked when and what time she should come.

Andy thanked herself every day that she hadn't given up so quickly. At first, she was blinded by the fact that the magazine was about fashion, instead of focusing on the fact that she worked directly for the editor-in-chief herself — a damn good editor-in-chief at that. Every little decision had to go through Miranda, and Andy was right there, watching and hearing and learning from the most qualified person she could think of.

Thank God for not going to Auto Universe.

"Six!" Nigel walked quickly to her desk, breathing heavily. "You have a second?"

As soon as he saw her, he breathed a sigh of relief and for a moment he looked as if he wanted to kiss her. Andy frowned and her eyes widened in worry.

"All yours, what is it?"

"You have no idea how glad I am that she decided to take Emily with her today." He started and put one hand on his chest and in the other he was gripping something so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Okay...?" Andy wasn't sure whether she should be worried or not. Runway was usually a lot quieter when Miranda went out, and lately it was rare for her to take Emily with her instead of Andy. "Nigel, are you..."

"Here," he whispered and secretly pressed something small into her hand. He held her hand with both of his and patted it twice. "Take this, make a copy as soon as possible on your own laptop, don't do it on the company laptop, okay?"

"But Nigel, I can't! It's against the poly-"

"Do as I say, I'll explain later!" He interrupted her by rubbing his head with his hand. "Just-"

At that moment, Andy's desk phone rang. They looked at each other uncertainly, and normally she would have found it comical because the phones rang every day and all the time, but Nigel stressed her out with his strange approaches and whispers.

"Miranda Priestly's Office, how can I help you?" She answered, keeping her eyes on Nigel, who stood still, looking like he had stopped breathing.

"Is there anyone next to you?" Andy startled slightly when she heard Miranda's voice on the phone.

Why would Miranda call her on her office number instead of her cell phone? Everyone knew Miranda called her all the time and...

"Yes." She replied briefly and broke eye contact with Nigel. No matter how close they were or how much she trusted him, if Miranda didn't want anyone to know she was in contact with her, she wasn't going to betray her trust.

"Is Nigel there?" Her voice was strangely quiet, as if she was hiding this conversation from whoever was right next to her.

"Yes, of course, but she's out of the office right now, do you want me to give her a message?" Andy made this idea on the spot, wanting this conversation to seem as natural as possible, especially since Nigel was still watching them carefully.

She reached for a small piece of paper and her notebook, holding the receiver with her arm and grabbed a pen, wanting to quickly write down everything that Miranda was going to tell her.

"I'll see you at home today, when you bring the Book, you'll tell me exactly what he told you. God knows something weird has been going on with him for a while and there's a reason I still haven't got half of the mock-ups for this issue."

Andy scribbled an imaginary message for Miranda in tiny letters, making sure Nigel wouldn't be able to read it from where he was standing, and quickly put it in her notebook, which she then closed and pushed away.

"I'll let you know about the time of the meeting when she'll come back to the office. Is that all?" she asked and took a deep breath as her own words echoed in her head.

Miranda made a strange sound that would have sounded like laughter if it weren't Miranda;

"Yes, Andrea, that's all." And the line went dead.

"Of course, thank you, bye!" Andy added and hung up the phone.

It felt like a cheap action movie. Everyone around was behaving strangely. Nigel looked like he was up to something, but in fact his entire department was running around the office today like headless chickens; no wonder Miranda started to suspect something. Two days ago she asked for preliminary designs for the cover of the May issue, but she has not received them yet. Andy was sure that it was only because she liked Nigel that Miranda hadn't stormed into his office yet and made a fuss about him, and instead waited patiently.

"Who was that?" Nigel asked, his gaze boring into Andy.

"John Galliano's assistant." She came up with it on the spot.

"What does he want? We don't do anything with Dior for this issue."

Andy, she hoped, gave him a very hard look. Because truly, she was now giving him her best acting, and he was persistently asking her about the smallest details.

"He wants to meet with Miranda for dinner. You know she likes him especially since that fall collection he did last year." Andy waved her hand and started fingering the flash drive Nigel had given her a moment earlier to distract him.

That was actually true. Emily, ever since the last dinner she had arranged for the two of them, hadn't been able to shut up about his collection. Saying that this show was the definition of haute couture. Andy did her research and with a heavy heart had to admit that it was stunning.

Because of Emily's constant admiration for various collections, she decided to watch a few shows in the comfort of her own home and see what was going on. She started with the ones that Emily admired the most, and even though she didn't like every one of them, she had to admit that she spent a lot more time watching them than she had previously expected. She still wasn't as passionate as everyone else working at Runway, but now she understood where such passion came from.

The flash drive thing worked because Nigel leaned over her slightly and dropped the topic of John.

"Transfer all of this to your own computer and save it as many times as you can. It's really important."

"Okay, I will but why?" She didn't like this unnecessary drama. Nigel expected her to do something that could get her fired, so she was fully entitled to an explanation and specific reasons. "I need to know why, or I won't." She whispered and moved the flash drive on the desk towards him, but still didn't remove her hand from it because of the cameras.

Nigel closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly. After two deep breaths, he looked at her again and moved closer, lowering his voice to almost a whisper;

"Somebody deleted almost all of our work for this month's issue, what you have here is all that is left. Do as I say, because I'm scared that if not we'll lose all our work." He explained, gave her a hard look and walked away towards his office.

Andy sat in the chair and blinked several times in so much shock that she wasn't sure how long she sat there. If Nigel was right and someone had actually sabotaged them, she should mentally prepared herself for many extra hours of work, as well as an angry Miranda.

She put the flash drive in her purse, checking ten times that it was definitely in the purse and that it hadn't fallen out anywhere, and when the phone rang again, she went back to work.

"Here you go."

Tom's voice woke Andy from her light sleep and her head snapped up. She glanced at her watch and blinked quickly a few times, adjusting her eyes to the surrounding light.

"Thanks." she mumbled and smiled slightly at Tom, who brought her the Book.

"Tell her not to look at anything from page thirty." He joked and smirked at her before going.

She placed both hands on it and stretched her back one way and the other. It was already well after ten; no wonder she drifted away for a moment. She shook her nervous thoughts away and stood up slowly, packing her phone and a few other things into her purse. It's been a long time since she stayed so long after hours, the last time she did, it turned out that the vast majority of the material inside had to be thrown away, according to Miranda. She really hoped that such a delay wouldn't mean more trouble this time, although she should have prepared for it anyway if she still had a stressful conversation with Miranda ahead of her.

She stood up, gathered all her things from her desk, and after throwing them into her purse, walked towards the elevator. She glanced back once to make sure she had taken everything and turned off the light.

As soon as the elevator opened at the bottom, Andy clutched her purse tightly, paranoid that she would lose the flash drive. She wanted to kick Nigel's ass. Of all people, give her the responsibility of carrying all the hard work of hundreds of people. A work that was closely guarded, and if any data came to light before the official deadline, she would be the prime suspect.

She left the building, took a quick look around, and was sure she must look suspicious. She felt like she was already becoming paranoid. She was walking towards the subway station with her purse pressed to her chest instead of on her shoulder, and breathed slowly, trying to ignore how she was shaking and tried to calm down. With this behaviour she was only focusing other people's attention to herself.

Nigel also risked a lot. If the designs for the next issue were leaked, cameras would certainly be checked to catch the suspect. Not many people had access to working cover designs, article topics, or photos from sessions for the largest fashion houses. In fact, the number of people was so limited that Andy was sure that they would have no problem finding out that at some point she was in possession of this flash drive.

Feeling her face turn red with nerves and beginnings of uncontrollable sweating session, she breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the 47-50 Sts-Rockefeller Centre and quickly ran down the stairs, hoping to keep the wait as short as possible and get off at the nearest station to Miranda's house — she still had one transfer along the way. She swiped the card and sat down on one of the benches, placing her purse on her lap. She gripped both sides of it, to make sure none of it fell out, so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Andy looked around once and twice, but fortunately there were only two people standing on the platform with her, and at a safe distance from her.

Miranda. What will she tell Miranda?

She was sure that the woman would be furious and that of all the people, Andy would be the closest to her at that moment. She let out another shaky breath and swallowed hard. Clenching her jaw tightly, she looked into her purse again to make sure for the hundredth time that the flash drive was in place, and once it was there, she didn't take her eyes off it until she closed the purse again.

That of all days, Roy couldn't give her a ride today. Not only would she be there much faster, but she wouldn't be so afraid. As a rule, she preferred to take the subway. Roy often offered to wait for her to pick up the Book and take her to Miranda's and then to her own house, but she always refused. He had enough working hours, and the additional uncertainty of at what time he would return home to his wife was unnecessary. Andy didn't want to be responsible for his even later returns and possible relationship problems; it's enough that she had her own. Today, however, she would gladly use it, if only for her own peace of mind.

She jumped in place when the phone rang and, quickly taking it out of her pocket, she looked to see who was calling her.

Miranda.

She swallowed hard and said a prayer in her head, begging for mercy, and answered as quickly as possible, not wanting to keep her waiting.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"Where are you?" Miranda hissed and Andy shuddered. It was the first time a woman called her, asking how long it would take for her and the Book to arrive.

"It took them longer, than usual, I should be at your place in thirty minutes." She answered quickly and glanced at the watch on her wrist, cursing inwardly that she had not mastered the ability to teleport.

"Hurry up, I'll be waiting." She hung up.

Andy put the phone away and decided to wait faster.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long. Sitting in one of the carriages, she quickly took out her phone and sent a message to Nigel threatening him for putting her through so much stress.

After one transfer and already sitting on the destination train, Andy counted the passing seconds. Miranda's verbal announcement that she was waiting for her made her even more anxious than if she were up in her head by herself. The Met Gala was to take place in just over two weeks; Not only was everyone in the office panicking, and she and Emily had twice as much responsibility, but it turned out that there was a problem with the material for the latest issue.

"Great, that's exactly what I needed." Andy grumbled under her breath and ignored a few cold looks from the other passengers.

She got off at the appropriate station, thanking whatever Gods it was already Friday, so even though she would be home around midnight, at least she would be able to sleep in.

She staggered upstairs and looked around to make sure no one was following her, and almost tripped over her own feet when she saw Miranda standing just outside the stairs.

"M-Miranda?"

Andy was sure she was starting to hallucinate from being tired. Why would Miranda wait for her at the very entrance to the subway instead of sitting safely in her warm, bright home? After all, it was literally a five-minute walk from the station.

"Finally, come along." Miranda growled and grabbed Andy's arm, pushing her forward slightly and hurrying away.

Andy squeezed the Book in her arms, holding it to her chest while adjusting the strap of her purse, which was stubbornly falling down. She quickened her pace and fell into step with Miranda, who set a blistering pace. Only now did Andy notice that Miranda was wearing loose, airy black pants that somehow visually slimmed her legs. On her feet she was wearing the most ordinary slip-ons, and a blood-red sweater — perfect for this time of day, because despite the general heat, it was getting cold enough at this hour, that if she was dressed like Andy, she would definitely bu uncomfortable.

Andy felt a cold shiver cover her body at the thought and decided to focus on that feeling instead of the awkward silence that filled the space between them. Andy was so fascinated by the fact that this was the first time she saw Miranda as a 'normal' person that she forgot her words.

They walked side by side for a few moments, or rather Andy a few steps behind Miranda. The space between them was filled only with the sounds of the city slowly falling asleep. Even though they were in New York, the area was relatively quiet. Of course, this shouldn't have surprised anyone, since this street was populated by the crème-de-la-crème, but nonetheless, the fact that New York could be so quiet, no matter what time of day, was shocking.

"Aren't you a little cold?" Miranda asked, breaking Andy from her thoughts. Apparently she also felt how awkward it was to go like this and not say a word. As a rule, Miranda always said something; whether she was complaining about someone or giving further orders to be done.

When Andy thought about it for a while, she couldn't imagine what Miranda's outings were like when she took Emily with her. The British girl was always so tense, even in conversations with her, so what must have happened to her when she was alone with Miranda... The thing about Andy was that no matter who she was dealing with, she couldn't stay quiet for long. She liked talking to people, she couldn't help it; and it always worked. Miranda was the only one who seemed to not only not like talking, but just not liking people. In general.

"No, it's okay." Andy replied quickly, feeling that if they continued at this pace any longer, she would get a colic.

Even though she was taller than Miranda, she had trouble keeping up with her; Andy decided to blame it on the fact that she was wearing heels that were too high for anyone to be able to walk properly in them.

"Hmm." Miranda hummed and Andy suddenly felt stupid for not saying more, so she added quickly;

"It's so hot during the day that I'm even glad it's a little cooler now."

She cringed internally as soon as the words left her mouth.

Small talk with Miranda was something she was sure no one had ever experienced. This woman was so against talking about anything that wasn't work-related that Andy couldn't even imagine her having a normal conversation with her daughters. Miranda was there to give orders and Andy was there to carry them out.

She should definitely go to the cinema for 'Mission Impossible III' in almost a month. She would relate with the title.

Now she was put in a position where Miranda asked questions instead of giving out orders, something Andy was completely unfamiliar with. Yes, she felt that she had got to know Miranda well enough that she was able to anticipate many of her requests before she knew herself that she would want to give them. Her moods and whims were so clear to Andy that she had no problem understanding them. And yet, something as simple as a regular conversation was a challenge.

"You don't like hot weather, I assume." Miranda replied and, probably seeing Andy's tiredness, slowed her pace a little. Thanks to this, Andy was at par with her, not lagging behind, and the height difference between them became more noticeable.

"No, not much." Andy laughed humourlessly and breathed a little louder.

She was shocked that Miranda didn't immediately start questioning her. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful for that or not. On the one hand, she was glad that she didn't get a blood-curdling glare from the very beginning, but on the other hand, she couldn't put her finger on how she felt about this supposedly friendly chat, because that's what it was, right?

Despite the reluctance, — Well, Andy thought, not reluctance, but more confusion. — regarding Miranda's relatively friendly questions, it occurred to her that her job might be a lot more enjoyable if she were at least able to talk to Miranda on friendly terms from time to time. The order-execution relationship was perfectly understandable, but even this short conversation, no matter how stressful for the surprised Andy, was a nice change. Something she could get used to.

The short walk definitely helped Andy clear her mind. She climbed the stairs right behind Miranda, who was already at the corner taking her keys out of her pants pocket. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling widely. Despite all the stress of today — Nigel and Miranda's behaviour — she was in a strangely good mood. She felt as if she was devouring Miranda with her eyes, unable to look at her boss like that on a daily basis. Yes, she had seen her at home a few times when she was bringing the Book and Miranda was walking down the hall, so she took it from Andy's hands, but it still wasn't the same. The knowledge that Miranda had left the house late in the evening to 'pick up' Andy from the subway was so absurd to her that she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. Plus, Miranda dressed in such a down-to-earth way didn't scare her that much. Well, she still had that aura about her where you could almost feel her entering a room before you saw her. Still, it was a nice change.

Miranda stepped inside and held the door for Andy and moved with her head to hurry up. Andy ran up the last few steps and quickly walked inside, standing still, not sure what she should do. Miranda slammed the door behind her and turned both locks.

"Come with me, take off your shoes." She ordered and Andy hurried to obey, while Miranda walked over to one of the shelves in the hall.

She quickly took off her shoes and placed them neatly, against the wall, hoping that she had chosen a good place for them. She straightened up and looked at Miranda, who took something out of the cabinet and then placed a pair of slippers right in front of Andy's feet.

This time she felt like she was going to put a hole in her cheeks from biting them so hard. Homey Miranda was definitely something Andy could get used to. As long as she lived, she had never been given slippers after entering someone's house. It was rather... adorable. In a way.

She put them on quickly ignoring the previous thoughts and followed Miranda into the house, hesitating only for a few seconds. The last time she decided to go upstairs, it didn't end well. She wondered if the twins were home, but then she remembered that this weekend was for them to spend with Miranda's ex-husband.

"Sit." Miranda suggested, pointing to the couch against one wall. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Umm, just water?" Andy replied, although it sounded more like a question.

She was confused. For the first time in Miranda's house, not hanging up laundry, no further than just the hall. Miranda didn't take them upstairs, instead inviting her into what was probably one of the several living rooms or studies. The walls were covered with light-warm wood, most likely alder. The thin checked sofa on which she sat unsteadily was a warm shade of grey, which blended beautifully with the darker, navy blue armchairs; the carpet was also a shade of blue, although Andy had no idea what the exact name of the colour was. On either side of Andy were shelves of books, locked behind glass doors, and right above her hung a painting worth probably more than Andy would earn in a year. Right above the fireplace across from her were family photos. Andy wanted to get closer and look at them, but she didn't dare move from her spot.

She put her purse on the floor next to her feet and leaned slightly to the left, looking after Miranda as she disappeared into the kitchen. From where she was sitting, she could see part of the next room, which, unlike the living room or small library, was distinguished by white shades.

She squealed softly when she felt something wet touch her knee and looked down into Patricia's black eyes. She smiled at her and scratched her behind the ear, where she knew she liked it best. She glanced quickly to make sure Miranda wasn't back yet and placed her other hand on the dog's head. Andy scratched it on both sides and leaned slightly towards her, lowering her voice;

"Hello, pretty lady!" she whispered, her voice jumping several octaves. She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes, placing a small kiss on Patricia's head.

A sound from the kitchen made her pet the dog a few more times and straighten up. Miranda returned after a few moments with a glass of water and a glass of wine in her hand. There was a faint smile on her face, but Andy hoped she wasn't caught with Patty (how much she liked to call her that, much to Emily's displeasure), who draped herself over her legs, keeping her warm. Miranda sat in the armchair to Andy's right, placing the drinks between them and didn't comment on it.

Andy swallowed hard as she was met with a calculating look.

"Nigel." Miranda began, getting straight to the point. "Explain."

"Well, um..." Andy started and quickly broke her tense gaze, focusing instead on the cuticles of her nails. Nigel probably didn't tell Miranda anything for nothing, but she couldn't lie to her, could she? "When you and Emily went to Calvin Klein, he-, ugh, he came to me and gave me this..."

She reached into her purse and quickly pulled out a flash drive that had been safely hidden in one of the smaller pockets. With a shaking hand, she placed it on the table next to her water and placed both hands on her lap as if she had been burned by it. Miranda looked at her, and Andy caught her surprise only by the slight movement of her left eyebrow. The woman leaned over and took the flash drive in her hand, looking at it quickly from both sides, until she finally looked back at Andy, signalling her to continue.

"Yeah, so..." Andy took a shaky breath and scratched her head quickly with her right hand. She was sure she looked like a mess. "Basically on this flash drive is all that's left of this month's issue." She blurted out quickly and avoided Miranda's gaze at all costs; it was enough for cold shivers to flow through her again and again.

"I beg your pardon?" Miranda whispered, her voice dropping an octave, and Andy looked up at her, deciding she might as well face it. "I'm sure I must have misheard you."

Andy bit her lower lip and shook her head quickly, her hair flowing slowly, somewhat covering her face.

"Well, I'm-, he told me that someone was deleting all the progress we- you made. Nigel found out about it and saved all the data so as not to lose anything else." Miranda, looked like she was actually about to transform into a dragon; all she missed was the steam escaping from her nose. "I have no idea how much was deleted and how much was kept. He asked me to download it to my own computer."

"Have you?" Miranda asked and gripped that flash drive in her left hand so tightly that Andy was afraid it would break.

"Not yet, I have my laptop at home." Miranda nodded slowly and pursed her lips. Andy added quickly, panicked; "Tom told me to tell you not to look from page thirty forwards." She barely raised her right hand and pointed with her finger at the Book, which was lying between Miranda's knee and the side back of the chair.

Miranda blinked twice and, keeping her eyes on Andy, reached for the Book and flipped straight to page thirty.

Andy had no idea what Miranda actually saw there, because she had never looked into the Book, although she had been curious about what it all looked like more than once. But something held her back, as if the mock-up of everything that would appear in the next issue was something sacred that only Miranda could lay her eyes on, despite how many people were actually working on it.

Something must have definitely been wrong, even tragic, because Miranda turned almost red in the face. For the next few minutes, Andy alternated between looking at Miranda, at her hands, or looking around the living room. She sat stiffly, straightening up every time she remembered that she was starting to slouch.

What now?

Miranda seemed to have forgotten that Andy was even sitting next to her. She stared at page after page, the tension growing with each. Andy wasn't sure if she should get up and leave, or if she could even go to the bathroom to vomit from nerves. She decided to sit still, waiting for further instructions. She was doing very well until out of the blue her nose became itchy, and she sneezed loudly.

Miranda looked up at her, and Andy felt her entire face become uncomfortably hot. She muttered a quiet 'sorry' and looked down until she heard the sound of the Book closing. Miranda set it down on the table and, crossing her legs she focused her eyes on Andy.

"Here's what we have to do," she began suddenly, leaning her left arm on the back of the chair and placing her other hand on her knee. Her gaze was intense and calculating, but at least she didn't look as pissed off as before. "You will call IP tomorrow, I want them to check who exactly has access to the system, as well as passwords to all folders with articles.  You will find out from Nigel how many photos disappeared and when exactly he noticed that they were decreasing. From what I saw in the Book, we don't have much left. In case someone sells our projects to other magazines, I need new materials. I won't allow something that was previously published in any other magazine, to appear in mine. Runway sets trends, not follows them.

Andy nodded quickly, suddenly aroused with new energy, and quickly took out her notebook, writing down everything Miranda had said so far. She suddenly got into the work mode.

"I already called IP and told them that we need a monthly check-up." She explained quickly and looked up when she heard no response.

"They don't do that, as far as I'm aware. How did you-"

"Oh, no biggie, I told them that it was a new company policy, and they didn't question it. From now on they will most likely actually do this every month." She laughed, but then the smile disappeared from her face when Miranda gave her no reaction other than a raised eyebrow. "I- I also talked to Frank, the deputy head of security. I didn't tell him much, only that we would need CCTV footage from the beginning of the month to now. He owed me a favour, so he didn't ask too many questions."

"You two seem close." Miranda stated and reached for her glass of wine, taking a sip without breaking eye contact with Andy.

"Huh?"

Andy wasn't sure how to understand this. Miranda's ability to jump from topic to topic was difficult for her to adapt to. Over time, however, she learned to keep up with the woman's quick mind — but found herself sometimes still lagging behind.

Miranda gave her a crooked smile that didn't have the slightest sympathy in it and sighed softly. She put the glass of wine on the table and ran a hand through her hair gently.

"We'll have a meeting first thing in the morning..." she continued, and Andy immediately started writing, grateful to be back to the issue at hand. "Inform everyone to come with heads full of ideas. We have half the usual time to prepare a completely new issue. They are to provide me with new shooting locations and themes. Inform Irv that I need to meet with him no later than noon, regarding this month's budget. I have a feeling he won't be happy with what I tell him."

Andy swallowed hard and nodded. She hoped Irv wouldn't cause Miranda too much of a headache. She immediately made a mental note to buy more painkillers and have them ready for Miranda at her desk.

For the next half hour, Miranda gave her so many orders, things to do, that Andy felt like she would soon need physical therapy on her right wrist from writing so much. Nevertheless, she was glad she could help. It's true that Emily would probably have to do some of these tasks, but that didn't diminish her pride one bit. The only problem she saw with this was that these two weeks promised to have even less free time for her.

Well, Nate will have to suffer through this somehow.

She didn't have time to cover her mouth completely when a huge yawn escaped her. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by Miranda, who looked at her for a moment and then moved the flash drive across the table towards her.

"Go home and do what Nigel told you. If someone is actually stealing, we need to be more careful." Miranda said seriously and Andy nodded quickly twice;

"Of course, Miranda."

"I hope I don't have to remind you how much time you'll have to sacrifice for this," Andy nodded again and refrained from rolling her eyes; as if Runway hadn't already taken up the vast majority of her day-to-day life. "Come to the office first thing tomorrow morning, you will be taking notes. I need you nearby to make any necessary calls."

Andy swallowed loudly, not wanting to accidentally make any gesture that would show how much she didn't like it. Tomorrow was Saturday, she had nice plans with Nate, and it looked like she'll have to postpone them again.

Miranda stood up and Andy followed suit. They both headed out, and Miranda unlocked the locks and opened the door while Andy was putting on her shoes.

"Oh, and Andrea?" Andy stopped mid-step, turning to Miranda, who was halfway hidden behind the door. "Don't tell anything to Emily as of now. Not until we know exactly where we stand."

"Yes, Miranda, you can count on me." She assured and felt like punching herself when she saw the mocking smile on the woman's face as she closed the door in her face without another word.

Andy closed her eyes and blew out a loud breath and stood there for a moment until she turned on her heel and headed towards the subway station. If she hurries, she should be home before midnight.

Standing outside a Manhattan bar, Andy once again reached for her bangs, fixing them insistently. The wind that finally came to the streets of New York persistently played with her hairstyle. It was enough that she looked much worse after the whole day than when she left the apartment in the morning. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and swallowed hard. It was before eight o'clock, and she was sure that she would have an unpleasant conversation at home. When she came to the apartment so late the previous day, Nate was waiting for her on the couch, looking so disgruntled that Andy immediately felt like a little girl who was about to be scolded by her mother for misbehaving. She explained to him what it was all about, revealing as much information as she felt was absolutely necessary. She trusted her boyfriend, of course, but the whole situation seemed so delicate to her that she didn't want to describe it in detail even to him.

Nate wasn't happy and Andy didn't expect anything different. However, they came to an agreement and settled on the fact that he understood or, so he told her. Later, however, she brought up the fact that their plans for Saturday had to be rescheduled and the whole argument started all over again.

"Why do you have to come to work on Saturday, Andy? These are things that are done on weekdays, not on weekends!" Nate said that night.

It's not that he was wrong, because in fact, work-related things should not be done on days off. Still, Andy didn't have as much trouble showing up at the office as she first thought. She worked there, she was a part of Runway. If it was important to Miranda, and of course it was, then it was automatically important to Andy as well. It was as simple as that. Having worked there for as long as she had, she looked at it all through completely different eyes than Nate, whose life Runway was negatively impacting — taking away time with his girlfriend.

Andy understood both sides, but in the end she had no choice. Well, she had, she could always quit and thus free herself from all the responsibility she now carried on her shoulders. Free from all this pressure and stress, as Nate liked to remind her. But the truth was that she didn't want to. She wanted more time for herself, who didn't want that, but at the end of the day, it was also important to her and if she was given an ultimatum by him, she wanted to believe that she would choose her boyfriend without hesitation, although lately she was starting to feel doubts.

She shook her head as if to get rid of the intrusive thoughts she wasn't ready to face and glanced at her watch once again. After today's meetings, Nigel approached her and suggested meeting her at one of his favourite bars near the Elias-Clarke building. She knew she should give up, apologize and go home. Nate was already nervous enough, but that was the reason she didn't want to go home. After their last conversation, she was exhausted and definitely not ready for another round.

"I'm here!" Nigel shouted as he ran a few steps towards her and as soon as he stood right in front of her, he placed a short kiss on her cheek. "Sorry, Six, but I got stopped with a very pleasant conversation." he explained and smiled knowingly at her.

Andy blinked, pretending she had no idea what he was talking about, and followed right behind him, going inside. They moved to one of the farther tables and Andy took her seat by the window while Nigel went to the bar to place his order.

"So, you told her." Nigel stated as he placed the drinks on their table. He took a neat whiskey for himself and Andy's favourite — Cosmopolitan.

Andy immediately took two large gulps and waved to the bartender for another.

"Of course i told her!" she hissed as she managed to swallow the pleasantly burning alcohol. "What did you expect, huh? She has to know!"

"All i wanted was some time to figure out what was actually happening," Nigel grunted and his mouth twisted slightly as the whiskey burned his throat. Andy never understood the pleasure of drinking this particular alcohol. "Thanks to you, the countess is mad at me now."

Andy snorted, because Nigel now looked so much like a little boy who had been corrected by his teacher at school in front of the entire class. She took another sip of her drink and placed both hands on one of his.

"I'm sorry you got beat up, but I had to tell her. You know how she is."

Nigel muttered something under his breath that probably included a few obscenities, but Andy decided not to ask.

She let go of his hand and leaned fully back in her chair. It was one of the nicest bars she had ever been to. It was beyond her usual standards, and the drinks were beyond her normal budget for such meetings, but she liked this place. She came here infrequently enough that she had no problem spending a little more money than necessary on drinks now and then. In addition, most often she was invited here by Nigel and usually he insisted on paying for her as well. The interior was pleasant. Some walls were covered with long panels of dark wood, and the rest with dark grey marble. The bar was minimalist and the brightest point of the place. LED lights were suspended under the counter top and above the glasses for all types of alcohol, illuminating them pleasantly. Darkening this place should have made it seem gloomy, but on the contrary — it was friendly and cosy, and the limited colour palette made every customer feel like they were in one of the more prestigious places, even though they weren't.

"You know what that means, right?" Nigel asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them that had not yet had time to become uncomfortable.

Andy was snapped out of her thoughts, jerking her head and focusing her full attention on Nigel. She frowned, not understanding him, and turned the tall glass twice between her fingers.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Nigel began, his tone indicating he was sure he shouldn't have to explain this to her, "that we need to have an investigation."

"What?" Andy laughed and took another sip. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Six!" Nigel rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, raising both hands above the counter, obviously ready to discuss the plan in detail. "Someone is sabotaging us, right?" Andy nodded. "Aren't you curious who?"

"Of course I am!" Andy also leaned forward slightly. "But I'm sure they'll find out sooner than later, we have cameras in the building, you know?"

Nigel looked at her without comment for a moment, and with every second Andy felt his expression was growing more and more bored and disappointed.

"I'm aware, thank you very much. All I'm saying is that it has never happened before. Some people would sell our material to other magazines, that's obvious, but never in that way."

"How so?" Andy, now much more interested in the topic, moved her Cosmo aside and placed both hands on the table, leaning fully on them.

Nigel smirked at her, noticing the change in her behaviour and lowered his head;

"They stole ideas, they stole finished articles, but they never deleted them so as not to attract our attention. So where did this change come from, hmm?"

Andy thought about it for a moment and focused her eyes on the black napkin. Did someone actually sabotage their work, not to sell materials to other publishing houses, but simply to interfere? One, of course, did not exclude the other, but Nigel was somewhat right.

She shook her head slightly and looked back up at her friend; there was no point in getting worked up senselessly and coming up with all these scenarios.

"Maybe, or maybe it was just an accident and someone deleted it without an evil reason."

Nigel rolled his eyes at her so hard she was afraid he would go blind.

"You can be so dull, sometimes." He sighed, but Andy didn't even have time to feel offended because he quickly changed the subject; "Do you know what you're wearing to the Met Gala?"

"Nothing, Emily is going, not me." She replied only a little grumpy. "Thank you!" She flashed a wide smile at one of the bartenders, who brought her and Nigel more drinks. "She reminds me of that every day." She turned back to her friend.

Nigel looked at her like she was an idiot for a moment, then burst into laughter, and she looked at him with some concern in response.

"Oh, please, you will be at the Met, that's for sure." He declared and clinked his glass against hers in a silent toast. "So tell me, what kind of gown would you like to wear?"

Andy looked at him for a moment before she smiled crookedly at him, unable to help but see the twinkle in his eye. Where does this belief come from? The first assistant always goes to the Met with Miranda, whose task is not so much to have fun with the invitees, but to make sure that everything goes according to plan. There were so many tasks, so many people to manage, that Andy breathed a sigh of relief every time Emily reminded her of it almost every day. She was looking forward to a free evening without wearing extremely high shoes and incredibly uncomfortable dress.

She didn't like all the events Miranda dragged her to; she was always uncomfortable, her feet were burning, and she came out hungry, tired and pissed of. From every ball she had the no pleasure of attending, she returned home in a terrible mood, not because of her own discomfort, but because of the conversations she overheard around her. All these people invited by Miranda should have kissed her feet, but instead they sent her hateful taunts.

Ungrateful skunks.

"Nigel..." she laughed and shook her head. "I'm not going. Miranda hasn't said a word about it to me, she only talks with Emily about the details. I'm okay, thanks."

"But it's the Met!" Nigel protested, unable to believe what she was saying. "You've never been to one and if you want to stay only a year you won't get a chance to go to the next one."

"Cheers to that!" This time it was she who clinked her drink against Nigel's whiskey and laughed brightly at his disgusted expression.

"... that much to ask for? I don't think so. Remind Stephen about our dinner tonight at that place that I went to with Donatella the last time, and call my ex-husband and inform him that the girls have a school play next week, and he is obligated to attend... preferably without his... whatever her name is."

Andy jumped up from behind her desk as soon as she heard Miranda's voice approaching and the rhythmic click of her heels. Emily trotted right behind her, writing quickly in her notebook. Walking to the glass door, Andy quickly grabbed the metal handle and opened the door for them. She usually only said a cheerful 'Good morning, Miranda!' from behind her desk, but lately she had been in such a good mood that she felt inspired.

It was Monday. Saturday's conversation with Nigel was mostly forgotten — the amount of the drinks they indulged in was to blame —, and Sunday was spent cursing his charming eyes. No matter how much experience Andy had accumulated, every time they went out for drinks it ended with a cut-up movie of the night and a massive hangover the next morning. Today, fortunately, she felt much better and was fully ready for action.

While the drinks were a pleasant distraction, which was always welcome despite the subsequent headache, Andy came to work that day fully focused. The responsibility that weighed on her, even though it was negligible, overwhelmed her. Her job was only to take notes at their additional meetings and to make the appropriate calls to the appropriate people. Nevertheless, knowing that she was one of the few people to know was kind of... hard. Of course, Andy appreciated the trust they clearly had in her, since Nigel had come to her in the first place, and Miranda had no problem with leaving her on the topic. She just hoped she wouldn't disappoint anyone.

Miranda walked past her without a glance and vanished in between the walls of her office — no coat with those temperatures. 

"Andrea." Miranda's voice rang out, a short moment after Emily returned to her desk, looking like she was about to vomit — her natural state.

Andy quickly rose and walked nimbly to stand right in front of Miranda's desk.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"Have you talked to Nigel?" She asked, but Andy had to try very hard to hear the question correctly. Miranda spoke quietly enough in everyday life, but now she was barely audible.

She ran her pen four times across the sheet of paper in front of her, in wide, sharp strokes; Andy recognized this move as putting her signature. She swallowed hard and looked away from Miranda's hand and nodded.

"Yes, after..." She quickly interrupted herself, because despite the lowered voices, she knew how smoothly the sound carried along the walls. "After."

Miranda looked up at her and stared at her for a few seconds before glancing quickly at her first assistant's desk, then returning to her.

"Emily?"

Andy just shook her head and rubbed her hand against the other, trying hard not to grind the fabric of her dress with nerves. That day the temperature was much more bearable, but the sun did not let up. Taught by her recent experience of the marathon and the heat, she put on lower gold-plated sandals on her feet, which went nicely with the airy, aquamarine dress with puffy straps, reaching to the middle of her calf. Andy personally found the length of the dress a bit awkward, but Nigel had assured her more than once that with her height and how long her legs were, this kind of cut would suit her perfectly.

"Bag." She announced about an hour later and it took Andy a moment to wake up from her thoughts and run to get Miranda's purse. "Come along, Andrea."

Emily huffed under her nose at that a little but Andy didn't bother to even look at her as she flew out of the office after Miranda, grabbing her own purse quickly. When she was finally downstairs, leaving the elevator, she checked whether she had taken her phone from the desk and was relieved when she saw it inside the snow-white Prada bag. She jogged slightly and caught up with Miranda right next to the car — she even managed to open the door for her, waving to Roy so that he wouldn't get out unnecessarily.

In fact, given Miranda's complete lack of patience for... anything, forcing her assistants to take a separate elevator only slowed down the process because Miranda had to wait for them later. Perhaps this was some form of relaxation for her, Andy thought as she walked around the car and took a seat next to Miranda inside. With a slight tug and a grunt from the machine, she returned to her previous thoughts;

Having worked as much as she had for Miranda, Andy had a very clear insight into what this woman's life was like. She knew her schedule from mornings so early that sometimes even the birds didn't have time to start their songs, to evenings so late that even New York — a city known for always being alive — went to sleep to rest. All these hours were filled with meetings at work, with run-through's, talks with the board or meetings at the largest fashion houses. Even lunch hours were spent in the office eating a steak or in the most expensive restaurants, where Miranda also had company. It seemed understandable that those few seconds of the day spent in the elevator, alone, could be... calming.

At this thought, Andy looked away from the buildings behind them and glanced quickly at Miranda, who seemed exhausted that day. She was wearing sunglasses, which protected her not only from the sun's harsh rays, but also from everyone else's equally unpleasant stares. Andy grimaced slightly at this thought — Miranda had many supporters, many fans. However, it could not be denied that what was most often read about on Page Six was not positive. As if hearing her thoughts, the woman took a deep breath and took off her glasses, folding them in her hand with one movement. However, her eyes were closed and her head was resting against the headrest. If Andy didn't know better, she would have sworn Miranda felt like taking a Power Nap.

"What?" Miranda snapped suddenly, as if she knew perfectly well that Andy was staring at her.

Andy felt her mouth open and close and wasn't sure what to answer. As Miranda opened her eyes with a heavy sigh and turned her head slightly towards her, her blue eyes seemed to be decorated with golden shooting rays. Andy stopped her movement quickly and closed her mouth because she was sure she must have looked like a fish.

"You clearly have something to say, Andrea." Miranda's tone was so cold that if it weren't for the discomfort Andy felt now, she would have even been grateful for the temporary drop in temperature. "Enlighten me."

Andy swallowed hard.

"N-no. I don't." Miranda raised one eyebrow slightly. "Well, y-you just look tired." Andy uttered, hoping her voice was filled with the perfect amount of compassion — because it was only with those words that she realized it was true. Miranda, no matter how brilliant, was also a human, and she needed to rest... at some point.

Miranda straightened slightly at these words. Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth pursed. Andy panicked.

"No! Not that you look look tired it's just- ugh, you seem tired, that's what I meant." She slurred and started playing with her hair nervously. 

No wonder Emily had such frequent attacks of neurosis. But, Andy thought, Emily was in a way smarter than her, because she would shut up at that point, not like...

"Not even seem, that's probably the wrong noun, I just mean that with the amount of work you have, you must be tired. I could mix up your schedule a bit so that you have at least an hour to yourself today or tomorrow..." Andy looked up from the seat in front of her and glanced at Miranda, whose expression would normally have amused her because the woman seemed completely baffled. Andy let out a sudden, shaky breath and laughed nervously. "I'm gonna shut up now."

She tore her eyes away from Miranda and glanced at Roy and felt her cheeks begin to heat up at his amused look in the mirror; she completely forgot he was here.

"Yes, that would be preferable." Miranda replied quietly, almost under her breath, and Andy pursed her lips so tightly that she was sure they must have been barely visible. She could have sworn Roy laughed. "Are you ill, Andrea?"

There was genuine curiosity mixed with disbelief in Miranda's voice. As if she couldn't fully process Andy's sudden babbling.

Andy cringed.

"Nope." She popped the 'P' and rubbed at her eye slightly with her finger, trying very hard to just forget that this conversation ever took place.

"The shoot with Lindbergh. Is he there already?"

"Yes, he confirmed with me an hour ago. They should be ready and waiting for you." Andy provided a quick response, grateful to Miranda for abandoning the previous conversation.

"Fine." Miranda exhaled and rested her head against the headrest again.

This time Andy decided to control herself and not stare at her boss so much. Now and then she caught herself staring at her, and she couldn't quite explain it. This was most likely due to how private Miranda was; almost everyone Andy met in her life were open people with whom conversations were pleasant. She couldn't help but enjoy the small talk. She liked exchanging experiences with others, she liked primarily telling stories, but also listening to them. There were few people who were as withdrawn from human life as Miranda seemed to be, which created one great paradox. The woman was always the centre of attention, the star of every evening, the hostess of great banquets and galas. She talked to hundreds of people in one day, expressed her opinions and comments, gave instructions, gave compliments to those for whom it was appropriate, thanked them for them when she received them from others; and yet, nobody knew anything about her besides the things that she wanted people to know.

Even Andy, as her assistant, with insight into so many parts of her life, didn't know much. She knew that Miranda hated incompetence, unpunctuality. That she is demanding, her mind is calculating, she accepts everything coolly, even though her visions on the monthly covers were filled with colour, warmth and passion. The fact that Miranda loved fashion, loved clothes and the art that could be told through them, was a generally known and accepted fact. The only thing that Andy's experience differed from readers' general knowledge was that she could observe it almost every day with her own eyes. She saw Miranda's creative process, which, although quiet when she worked alone in her office, was incredibly effective.

Sometimes she almost looked bored as she sorted through clothes, moving them from hanger to hanger. Alone, standing still, almost wearily, as the others ran around her, hoping that what they presented to her would be acceptable. Andy knew better; it took her a few months to learn Miranda. She knew her gestures, she knew what they meant. She could read her facial expressions, knew what needed to be done before it was even mentioned. However, Miranda's eyes were the biggest clue. Many people said they were cold and chilly. Two blues that, if possible, would turn people to stone. But the truth was that they said the most, even if not much.

Andy only realized when Miranda turned towards her again, a moment before reaching their destination, that she had been staring at her again as thoughts of her flooded her mind.

"Do it."

"Huh?" Andy made an undefined sound and blinked a few times, breaking out of the strange trance she was in.

Miranda rolled her eyes, looking annoyed, although Andy had a feeling she wasn't.

"Fix the schedule." She explained, and got out a second later when Roy finally pulled into the parking lot near where the photoshoot was to take place.

Andy smiled to herself and glanced back at Roy, who was looking at her in front of the mirror and giving her a reassuring smile. She quickly grabbed her purse from the seat and got out of the car, catching up to Miranda, knowing that this time she saw something in Miranda's eyes that she was sure had never appeared before — a hint of patience.

She pushed the dollar into the clear piggy bank and waved quickly at Kate, as she checked the name tag, who had prepared Miranda's coffee for her. She quickly left Starbucks and turned left, walking briskly back to where Runway was having another photoshoot. Even though Andy had to organize it all at the last minute, the progress they made was very satisfactory. Well, at least that's what she concluded from the behaviour of Miranda, who didn't often appear in person — usually receiving the final results from which she chose the best photos.

Andy was really proud of herself because after talking to many assistants, she landed none other than Keira Knightley. It wasn't her job per se, but she knew about the rage and stress that had fallen on Miranda, so she decided to use one of the favours she had managed to accumulate during her time at Runway and offered it to Miranda.

Luckily she said yes.

"Peter, try it sideways and with a smile. It's for a cover of a fashion magazine, not a mugshot." She heard immediately after entering the studio where everything was taking place.

She took a few steps and stood right next to Miranda, who was sitting in one of those high chairs, and handed her her coffee without saying a word. Miranda, also not speaking directly to her, reached for the cup and gave a barely visible nod of thanks, which made Andy bite the inside of her cheeks. She must have been so focused, that she didn't catch the giving in to such a simple gesture.

"Do you want it in colour, Miranda?" Peter asked, walking towards them slowly, his eyes focused on his camera. Andy couldn't specify whether his accent was more French or German.

"Yes." Miranda replied briefly and took a sip of coffee, shifting in her seat and beckoning the photographer over to show her what he had captured so far. "This deep sapphire is too beautiful to hide it behind black and white."

Peter hummed in approval, understanding the vision, and called Keira to their side. Andy moved a little to not disturb them and decided to check her phone for any messages. Despite the general stress of having to work twice as hard, they did relatively well. Everything so far has been covered in a really short time, new articles have been written, and the topics, according to Andy, were even better than the previous ones.

Now all that's left to do is wait for some failure.

Maybe she shouldn't pollute the atmosphere with a negative attitude, but she couldn't let go of the strange feeling that everything would soon go down.

"Yes, I'm eating..." Andy assured once again and rolled her eyes when another 'Are you sure?' sounded in her earphone. "Yes, mom, I'm sure."

Nate snorted under his breath, glancing briefly at Andy, who gave him a tired smile and rolled her eyes. He quickly went back to cutting vegetables.

"Have you heard from Jill?" Her mother asked, and Andy stopped picking at the sunflower seeds for a moment, instead holding the phone to her ear with her arm as she began cleaning up the husks with both hands.

"Well, why? You live much closer to each other, I was sure she visited you recently."

"Oh, you know how she is..." Her mom started whining and Andy knew this was going to be one of those longer conversations. "She'll call once every few months, tell you everything, and then another call in the next few months. She just gave birth, you would think she'd ask for help, but nothing... nada."

"She's got Kyle to help." Andy sighed and returned to her seat at the table, going back to eating her sunflower seeds. "You said yourself that she's just after giving birth, give her some time to enjoy her family."

"We are her family, Andy, and she won't talk to us."

Andy sighed heavily. No matter how long she tried, her mother was impossible to reason with. There was always something wrong according to her, she had criticism even on topics she had no idea about, and she needed a lot of attention. The fact that Jill, her older daughter, had started her own family and didn't call as often as she used to, obviously bothered her. Andy was personally happy for her sister. They didn't talk that often either, but they didn't have to — when one of them needed something, one phone call was enough and help was on the way.

Andy wondered how did her mother actually became a psychologist, although giving people direction as to what they should do in they lives was in her forte.

"Mom," she started, rubbing with the back of her hand across her forehead in frustration. "Give her some time, okay? I'm sure she'll call in a few days and'll tell you everything... with details."

"I should hope so!" Her mother almost gasped, but then added in an almost dreamy voice; "She did send me some pictures, wait, I'm gonna send them to you."

"Mom, I also got them, you don't have to..." Andy sighed, but then she felt her phone vibrate several times, announcing that the photos had arrived.

"Did you get it?" There was a question, followed by a few cracks and other strange loud noises that made Andy have to move the phone away from her ear a little. "Jill told you what they decided to name him? She didn't mention anything to me for some reason."

Wonder why...

"Yup, his name's Isaac. It suits him!" Andy replied eagerly and had to admit that it really did. Especially since this baby had exceptionally smart eyesight for being only two weeks old.

"Isaac? Oh God, well, it's her child, not mine." She sighed, but fortunately quickly changed the subject. "And what about you, honey? How's work?"

"Good, good..." Andy assured. "We had a little crisis, so I'm spending a little more time at the office, but it's good. I swear."

"More hours? Andy, do you even have time to rest?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure-?"

"Yes."

"... because dad and I are worried about you. You keep replying to us at night, you have absolutely no time to do what you gave up law for, if I may remind you..." Andy groaned loudly into the phone because she wasn't in the mood to listen to more lectures. "Doesn't this Miranda of yours have two children?"

Andy blushed slightly at the wording her mother had decided to use and waved her hand at Nate, who was now openly laughing at her, knowing full well what conversations with her mother were like.

"Yeah, she does... what does this have to do with-?"

"Well doesn't she spend any time with them? I mean as a mother, I'd hope that-"

"Mom, can you not?" Andy interrupted her, feeling a bit of steel seep into her voice. Even though she had been defending Miranda against unnecessary comments from people in her life for a long time, her mother's texts had never upset her as much as now. "She's a good mom, but she also has a career. My job is to make it all easier for her."

"Yes, I get that, there's no reason to go off." Her mother snorted, and Andy hoped very much that she wouldn't decide to get offended right away. "All I'm saying is that you need more time for Nate. How is he handling it?"

Andy looked up at Nate, who was now stirring something in the pan with quick movements, humming a song that was playing softly on the radio in the kitchen.

"Fine." She replied briefly, not wanting Nate to know what the topic was about. They had managed not to bring up Miranda once since their last conversation, and she wanted to keep it that way because she knew she was always getting too condescending, which was driving him crazy. "It's fine."

"Oh, baby..." Most likely, something in her voice must have alerted her mother. "You'll work it all out. When your father worked so much, I argued with him too, and look at us now."

"Yeah, I guess... thanks."

She wanted to say a lot more. She wanted to talk about this whole situation for a long time. Her mother complained about the lack of contact with Andy's older sister, but the truth was that she herself was no better. Yes, she replied to her parents' e-mails, but she usually avoided phone calls, and even if they did have one, it was always on her mother's initiative.

"Well, call me if you'll need anything, all right? I and dad are worried about you."

"I will." She won't. "Thanks, mom, say 'hi!' to dad from me, okay?"

"Of course, I love you!"

The end of the call tone sounded on the receiver and Andy placed the phone on the table in front of her with a slight sigh. Usually, after such calls, she remembered why she missed her parents, but also why she decided to move so far away.

"Everything okay?" Nate asked, placing a plate of tonight's dinner under her nose, pushing the sunseeds aside and taking a seat across from her.

She was really getting fed up with this question.

"Yhym." She nodded and stuffed a large portion of rice into her mouth, hoping that was enough of a sign that she didn't feel like talking.

Nate understood because he didn't say anything else, moving the vegetables around the plate with his fork, just glancing at her from time to time, as if he knew, that something was wrong.

Miranda was probably one of the most irritating, irrational and in simple words… ugh! Andy was getting so fed up with her that day, that she actually couldn’t find the right words.

Miranda's meeting with Karl Lagerfeld was a meeting planned for over a month. Despite working for Chanel during the day, the designer had been in Paris for some time. Of course Miranda wanted to see him as soon as possible after his return, especially since he would only be in New York for three days and then gone again.

The plan was simple; arrange a meeting, make sure Miranda and Karl are both aware of it, and then make sure it takes place. As always, something had to happen.

Andy really didn't want to blame anyone, because such mistakes happen to the best of people, and she understood that dates in the United States were written differently than in Europe. None of them had ever made this mistake before, they always made sure everything was correct. However, it now turned out that the agreed meeting between Miranda and Karl was to take place on December 4th, and not on April 12th.

Miranda was sure that the second date was the right one. Andy knew it wasn’t.

They were fucked.

Andy since morning was on the phone, trying to call Lagerfeld's closest people, as the assistant's phone was turned off — how convenient. Emily was all stressed out and looked like she was about to have a heart attack. Andy tried to calm her down in various ways. All she wanted to do was slap her across the face with an open hand to make Emily stop her panicked mumbling and focus on answering the phone. However, she decided not to do it, because the last thing she needed was to come to work the next day with a lawsuit waiting for her on her desk.

Miranda was the most irritating part of all this though. It wasn't because her comments about this failure were so stinging, or because she was mocking them. The problem was that Miranda had no idea about the mistake, so she put a lot of work on Emily and Andy. It was hard to focus on finding time for Miranda in Karl's schedule when said woman was interrupting constantly.

The worst thing about this situation was that Andy was so tense and angry with everyone around her, especially Miranda, that it only fuelled her guilt even more because she realized that either she or Emily had made the mistake. If she was now nervous about every living soul around her, she couldn't wait for Miranda's reaction when she found out that the meeting she had been waiting for wouldn't take place for the next six months.

"And?" Emily hissed as they had a long moment between Miranda's other commands.

Andy sat with the phone in her hand, holding it tightly to her ear, and clutching a pen in her other hand, while slowly scratching her forehead in a nervous gesture. She glanced at Emily and quickly shook her head at her, because this was the eighth time Lagerfeld's assistant had not answered the phone even though she had, finally, turned it on.

"Oh my God!" Emily whispered tearfully, rubbing her temples. "She's going to kill us!"

Andy groaned in annoyance, hung up and dialled the number again. There was no way that after all this time working for Miranda, as her assistant, and a damn good assistant at that, someone refusing to answer the phone would get the better of her. One signal, two, three, four...

"Karl Lagerfeld's assistant speaking, how can I help you?" The call was answered, and Andy almost screamed with happiness.

She jumped up and, dropping the pen, pressed the phone to her ear with both hands as if this would increase her chances of success.

"Hi! It's Andy, I'm Miranda Priestly's assistant." She started with a smile on her face, but quickly recalled herself to order, thinking that it was better not to jinx it. "There's been a mistake. Miranda has lunch scheduled with Mr. Lagerfeld on April twelfth, and the last feedback I received to confirm the meeting showed that they weren't scheduled to meet until December."

Emily sat across from her as if on pins and needles, her eyes full of hope. Andy breathed deeply, hoping very much that everything would be resolved quickly and Miranda wouldn't even be aware of the slip-up. More than once, she and Emily, when faced with any obstacles, resolved matters without informing her — it only saved her the nerves.

"Yes, I see. Well, Karl is only in New York for three days and I'm afraid his schedule is packed. The next time he's in…"

"No, no, no." Andy paused and laughed nervously, giving Emily a quick glance. "You don't understand. It’s Miranda Priestly we’re talking about. She personally talked to Mr. Lagerfeld about their meeting. I'm sure he will find time for her. They have been friends for many years and..."

"I do understand, please believe me, I am aware of who Mrs. Priestly is." Andy mentally cringed, she knew how much Miranda didn't like being called that. "Unfortunately there's nothing I can do, all of his appointments are confirmed."

Andy cursed inwardly and cleared her throat, pressing the phone even closer to her ear, lowering her voice a bit, hoping that Miranda was too busy talking to Nigel to catch even a snippet of her phone conversation.

"I have to ask you for some help here. I understand that this is an inconvenience, but she's been waiting for him to come back from Paris to meet as soon as possible. Is there really no way to-"

"Girl, I get it, okay?" The assistant on the other end interrupted her suddenly, her voice filled with compassion. Andy wasn't sure if she was grateful for that or just more nervous. "I know who Miranda is, but I cannot change Mr. Lagerfeld schedule without consulting with him because you or the other one got the dates wrong."

Andy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting to three in her head. She looked at Emily, who was also on her feet, and shook her head, and she was sure she heard a juicy curse in response.

"You could meet with the Lagerfeld himself and it won't change the-"

"When?" Andy interrupted her quickly, telling herself that she must have been crazy to actually come up with such an idea.

"Excuse me?"

"Is he in a meeting right now or can I come and talk to him for a few minutes. I'm sure he can squeeze me in."

On the other end, the assistant let out a short, broken laugh, but when Andy didn't respond, silence quickly fell between them.

"You can't be serious."

"Is he at the office right now?"

"He's having lunch at Marea, but-"

"Thank you!" Andy hung up quickly, and before she could change her mind, she grabbed her phone off the desk and into her purse, which she slung over her shoulder. "I'm going — man the desk." She turned to Emily and almost ran out towards the elevator, ignoring Emily's shocked look.

When she ran into the restaurant after almost fifteen minutes, she was only a little out of breath. One of the waiters was standing at the entrance, checking customers' reservations. It's now or never, Andy thought and, straightening her hair a bit, she walked towards him. At that moment, another waiter came over, said something in his ear, and Andy knew that this was her chance, and she had to make the most of it. She ignored the vibrating phone that had been haunting her since she left the Runway offices, hoping very much that it was just Emily and not Miranda herself. Taking advantage of the fact that the two waiters were talking to each other on the side, she slipped inside and took a few steps, hoping that no one would find her presence suspicious.

She looked really good, and thanked fate that on that day she had decided to wear a dark brown dress with a square silhouette, which was none other than Chanel.

She looked around discreetly and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Lagerfeld at one of the more hidden tables. Sitting across from him was someone Andy was sure she had seen at one of Miranda's banquets, but she couldn't remember the name. She took a deep breath, shuddering only a little when the phone started vibrating again and with all the confidence she could muster, she moved towards them.

Fate must have really favoured her that day, because when she was just two tables away, Karl's companion left the table, most likely going to the restroom, so Andy was quickly able to take his place.

"Qui es-tu? Qu'est ce que c'est censé vouloir dire...?"

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Lagerfeld but I'll only take a minute of your time, okay?"

Karl, she had to admit, looked thoroughly shaken, but he didn't immediately ask for security — Andy decided not to give him time to do so.

* * *

She left the restaurant in a much better mood. Maybe it was her lucky day, or maybe Karl Lagerfeld was a much friendlier man than he seemed, but she managed to arrange a meeting for Miranda.

Andy, as soon as she found herself back on the streets of New York, surrounded by passer-bys who had no idea of ​​her achievement, stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, feeling the sun's rays pleasantly cover her face like the softest blanket.

She laughed to herself, and only once again did the vibrating phone jolt her out of her thoughts — good thing that she was already on the street where the Elias-Clarke building stood.

"Oh shit!" she whispered as she almost dropped her phone after seeing that it wasn't Emily. "Yes, Miranda?"

"Andrea, how kind of you to finally pick up." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and Andy knew she was doomed. "Where are you?" Miranda hissed.

"I'm gonna be back in five minutes, Miranda." She replied, simultaneously taking off and almost running. "Is there anything you want me to-"

She clicked the elevator button a few times, hoping she wouldn't have to wait long once in a building.

"I've heard some interesting news." Andy swallowed hard, hoping very much that Miranda hadn't received a call from an angry Lagerfeld.

"I couldn't possibly-"

"Emily just said that my lunch with Karl is in over eight months. Do you care to elaborate on that?"

Andy breathed a sigh of relief, although she hoped that after all this time, Emily had a little more faith in her and wouldn't spill the beans so quickly and unnecessarily upset Miranda.

"Emily must have forgotten about the appointment you two have tomorrow." Andy explained, unable to wipe the sly smile from her lips.

She got off the elevator and quickly walked towards Miranda's office.

"Andrea, what are you-" She stopped as her blood-curdling eyes landed on the assistant entering the office.

She hung up and stood up from behind her desk, ignoring Emily sitting in one of the chairs across from her. Andy obediently moved closer.

Miranda stood speechless for a moment, her eyes breaking eye contact as she glanced at Andy's lips, which certainly still had traces of that proud smile on them. She looked back and squeezed her jaw tightly.

"Time?"

"Tomorrow at 3pm at that place you were with him the last time." Andy replied tersely, not even trying to remember the name of the restaurant, knowing that Miranda didn't remember it either.

In response, she received another thoughtful look along with pursed lips. Finally, a nod;

"That's all." Miranda waved her hand, dismissing them both and returning to her seat.

Andy sat back in her seat and bit her lower lip, trying, albeit feebly, to hold back the wide smile that was spreading across her face. She looked at Emily and couldn't believe it when she saw her staring back at her with the exact same expression.

Chapter Text

Andy was confused, even though she shouldn't be, because she had known Miranda for a long time.

It was already well after eight in the evening, and they were still at work. This was nothing new for Andy, because she often stayed in the office until late hours waiting for the Book. The rest, however, did not cope with it very well. Nigel was one of the best at hiding his yawns, Andy had to give him that.

She was sitting in the corner of the conference room where such meetings were most often held. The white light was slowly starting to hurt their eyes and the air conditioning was starting to dry out her skin. She slightly adjusted the hem of her dress, which had barely folded, and crossed her legs. She had an open notebook on her lap with a pen in her right hand, ready to take notes from the meeting. Even though it was such a small thing, she was proud of it, especially since she started doing them in a way — with the help of colours and small post-it notes — that it was much easier and more efficient for Miranda to go through them later. One of her proudest moments was when Emily was responsible for the notes, which Miranda complained about and berated her for the next two weeks. Not because Emily didn't perform, but because it confirmed that Miranda was happy with the way Andy worked.

The situation with Emily was... different since the last situation with Lagerfeld. It's not like they started talking normally and became best friends overnight, but there was an obvious change. Perhaps Emily finally decided to understand that if they worked together it would be much easier for them, or maybe Andy had managed to impress even her.

As for being confused about Miranda, it wasn't because she was keeping everyone up late, but it was more about her behaviour towards Andy. She assumed that Miranda was uniquely human the night it all started. But now, after a whole week, Andy felt like they were back to square one, because Miranda was as cold and unpleasant as she had been at the beginning.

"No." Miranda said, rejecting another idea that had been floated over the rectangular table. "What else?"

Andy looked at the faces of all the heads of the various departments, knowing immediately that the silence was going on for too long.

"W-we thought about doing something about the prices of clothes and why they-"

"No. We did that for September last year." Miranda sighed heavily and cleared her throat, reaching with her hand to the beads around her neck, playing with it slowly. She leaned back in her chair slightly, twirling the pen between the fingers of her other hand. "I truly don't understand what is so difficult for you in writing about something that we haven't done in the last couple of years."

Andy cringed internally. Here we go...

"How hard can it be to find me an interesting article topic for only two pages worth? Is it really such an impossible task for you all to achieve? What about our next two locations for photo sessions with Yves Saint Laurent and Lacoste? " Miranda leaned over the table again and wrote something down in quick, sharp strokes.

"We were thinking of going a little more into nature. M-maybe a session in the field, or-"

"Philip, tell me who was on the cover of our December issue last year?" Miranda interrupted him and asked in a deceptively light voice.

Philip adjusted his glasses, swallowed hard, and looked quickly around everyone gathered.

"Don't you remember?" Andy, even though she was sitting behind Miranda, was sure that the woman was giving her coldest smile again.

"K-K-Keira Knightley."

"And what did the cover look like?"

Oh my God, Andy thought. The atmosphere in the room was so thick that Andy yearned to go out and get some fresh air. She never liked situations where someone was put in front of everyone else and destroyed piece by piece with words. Miranda was an expert at those.

"She was, umm..." He loosened his tie a little. "She was lying in flowers and..."

"Yes, she was. And who do we have for this cover?"

"Also Keir-"

"Indeed." Miranda finally looked up from her paper, and Andy was sure poor Philip was getting a murderous glare. "The article about that woman from Chile needs to be rewritten. What I got is too long and boring. Put some life into it if you don't want readers to fall asleep with their noses in the magazine." Miranda quickly got back on track, as if she hadn't made an almost grown man cry.

Andy had heard from Nigel that this had happened a few times, but she wasn't sure she believed him. Now she was a little more convinced.

"Andrea." Miranda turned to her after another forty minutes of disassembling each element of the emergency issue.

Most of them had already left, only Nigel remained, who was packing the last templates into his bag. As soon as he finished, he gave Andy a small smile, said goodbye to Miranda, and left.

Andy quickly got up from her seat and stood next to her.

"Sit." She obeyed, sat down and placed her notebook on the table so that Miranda could look through it at any time if she wanted to. "We need to go through the next week."

Andy nodded quickly. "Of course." She said and quickly pulled out Miranda's schedule and placed it in front of her.

Miranda sighed heavily and blinked more slowly; that being the only sign of how tired she must have been. Andy wanted to tell her to stop for today. So that she could go home and lie down and finally rest properly. Yes, the whole issue of deleted or stolen material for their next issue required extra hours from them, but how could they produce anything as good as the previous issue if everyone was overworked? After their last awkward conversation in the car, which Andy preferred not to think about, she had already made some changes so that Miranda would have more time during the day to rest. This clearly wasn't enough.

"Miranda..." She started slowly, but stopped herself. The woman looked up at her and raised her right eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. Andy shook her head slightly and focused on the schedule Miranda was holding. "Y-you have an early morning tomorrow. The facial is at 7am, then, immediately after, at 8:30am you have another budget meeting with Irv. He called and asked for at least two hours with you, but I told him it's not possible."

"Have you talked with Nigel recently?" Miranda asked suddenly, after about ten minutes of Andy's speech about her days to come.

Andy opened her mouth slightly, ready to answer, but found herself unsure what she was actually asking.

"I'm not sure I'm following."

Miranda nodded, looking almost relieved, and didn't bring up the topic again, leaving Andy confused and stressed, as always.

"Come." Miranda stood up while putting her things into her purse; tiredness visible not only on her face, but also in her slower movements. "Bring me the Book before we go. It should be ready."

Andy gathered all her things and quickly ran down two floors, looking for Tom. She looked into one office, then another, not sure where he worked. She usually waited at her desk and the Book was placed in her hands by whoever brought it, although lately it was mostly Tom.

He was nice. Kind of like Nate, although his hair was cut short. He was almost always dressed in suit trousers and single-colour shirts that had one too many buttons undone. He was tall, slim and had a wide, sincere smile, which was enhanced by dimples in his cheeks. Tom was usually dressed in black, although he looked equally good in a purple shirts that blended beautifully with his dark skin.

"Hello?" She called, looking into one of the rooms.

"Here!"

Andy turned and walked in the direction the voice came from. She leaned against the door frame and looked at her co-worker for a moment with a slight smile on her face. She liked Tom. She thought she should get to know him a little better and maybe introduce him to Doug, she was sure they would get along.

"Andy!" He gave her a stunning smile when he finally saw her. "Hi! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the Book." She explained. "Miranda is getting ready and told me to come get it, do you have it?"

"Yes, of course, here you go." He answered quickly and took a few steps towards her, reaching for the Book along the way and handing it to her quickly. "Don't keep her waiting!" He smirked, which Andy happily returned.

"Yes, sir!" She laughed, placing two fingers to her forehead in salute.

She hugged the Book to her chest with both arms in a patronizing gesture and took two steps back, wanting to get back upstairs as quickly as possible.

"Andy!" Tom called, so she turned around quickly, still going but backwards. "What do you say; drinks at the Holly's tomorrow at, let say, 7pm?"

Andy gave him a smile and shook her head. She turned back around, running to the elevator and shouted back;

"You got it!"

As she came back to their floor, she was shocked to see Miranda, who was checking something on her phone, waiting for her at her desk. This was probably the first time she had seen this woman waiting for anyone, and yet, here she stood.

"Finally, what have you been doing for so long? Planting the trees for the paper?" Miranda snapped the moment she saw her and with a loud, obnoxious sight went to the corridor leading to the elevators.

Andy followed.

"Stephen confirmed?" Miranda asked as they shared the elevator together for the third time, checking the time on her watch.

Andy found herself watching her gestures carefully. Miranda, despite how sharp, specific and strict she was, had extremely theatrical movements, which Andy only noticed recently. She had a certain mannerism to her that could be very mesmerizing. Most people only noticed how often she tilted her head to the side, which was probably one of her more famous gestures. However, Andy managed to notice many more of them. Playing with necklaces was one of them.

What she liked most were gestures such as checking the time on the watch. Andy couldn't find the right words to describe it, but Miranda turned even the simplest ones into a kind of acting. All of it was over the top but in the best way possible. When her private phone was ringing, and she was filling out forms, there was always that moment of slight surprise that resulted in unnecessary, slight gesticulations. In fact, most of Miranda's movements had a very delicate and sort of smooth tone that contrasted with her sharp tongue and mind.

Miranda cleared her throat, something Andy had also noticed she often did, and it brought her out of her thoughts that were making her blush slightly.

"N-no. No, his phone was turned off for the better part of the day." She answered quickly and focused her eyes as hard as she could on the changing floor numbers.

"Of course." Miranda chuckled but there was no humour in it, and Andy hoped that would be the end of the conversation, or at least the change of the subject, because that tone strangely announced a very private territory in a woman's life that Andy had no desire to enter.

Well she did, but not to that extend.

She really found herself wanting to just ask Miranda if everything was okay. It wasn't like she was worried about her — that wasn't her job — but Miranda had been looking a lot more tired lately, and only Andy seemed to notice, and she fashionably let her knew. She couldn't ask Emily, of course. First, they didn't talk to each other about anything other than Miranda; and although that should have been one of the main reasons why the British woman would be the best person to talk to about it, Andy was sure she would hear nothing other than to 'mind her own business'. Emily would be right, Andy thought, because indeed it was none of her business. Still, strange waves came over her, not so much of sympathy, which Miranda would surely despise, but of ordinary... concern?

Nah, that can't be it, she thought.

She broached the topic with Nigel once, feeling sure she would get the most accurate feedback from him, but after one innocent question, she knew it wouldn't work. He was only a little taken aback, then assured her that Andy had a Samaritan complex and that in fact Miranda was behaving as she always did.

Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't, but all this still didn't explain why Andy had such instincts to begin with. She was convinced that even if she had the courage to ask, most likely after pouring at least three per mille of alcohol into herself, if Miranda somehow answered her, it would embarrass her. It wasn't because she couldn't comfort people, in fact, it was Andy who played the role of psychologist among her friends, always willing to help. The image Miranda had created for herself, who she was in relation to others' every day, prevented Andy from allowing her brain to create any images that would portray Miranda as vulnerable. It was unimaginable to her, and she wasn't sure how she should feel about it.

The elevator rang and Andy obediently followed Miranda to walk her to her car. It was already so late that apart from them, security and a few cleaning people, there was absolutely no one in the hall. The sound of their quick steps in high heels echoed, accompanied only by the slight hum of the air conditioning, which was not audible during the day, and a radio playing in the distance, most likely listened to by one of the security guards.

They went outside, and Roy was standing in front of the car, quickly throwing his cigarette onto the sidewalk when he saw them. Andy smirked to him, and he returned the gesture, while opening the car door for Miranda. She waited a moment for her boss to get in, then she leaned over and held out the Book towards her.

"What are you doing?" Miranda asked as she took off her glasses and finally looked up at Andy, who she was sure now had a very stupid look on her face.

"Um..."

"Get in." Miranda said and rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly as if she couldn't believe that Andy hadn't guessed.

Exchanging a brief look of surprise with Roy, she ran around the vehicle and got in next to Miranda, quickly fastening her seat belt. The car roared softly and immediately they drove forward. Andy wasn't sure if the atmosphere in the car was actually awkward or if she was just telling herself things that weren't true. She travelled with Miranda often, after all, and they never filled the silence with friendly chats, but it seemed different now.

She thought it was most likely due to her previous thoughts. Especially since now that she glanced at Miranda, she could notice all these things. With the open Book on her knees, she was holding it with one hand at the edges, and the other slowly moving the page she was currently looking at. Something must have displeased her, because she cleared her throat again and her head tilted slightly to the side, but other than that she didn't move. Andy, even though she wasn't sure why, reached for her purse and, trying to do it as quietly as she could, took out the red pen that she always carried with her, wanting to be prepared even for such situations. Without looking at Miranda, she held out her hand with a pen and pretended to continue searching for something in her purse, slightly afraid of the woman's reaction.

A few seconds passed before she felt the red pen slip from her hand, accompanied by another clearing of her throat by Miranda, who must have found the silence between them equally unpleasant.

"Is there some new trend for oversized fonts?" She asked suddenly, scribbling something aggressively, causing Andy to turn quickly to look at the editor despite herself. She wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical or not, but she decided to take the chance;

"Well, it's retro." As soon as she said it, she felt like jumping out of the moving car because Miranda stopped writing furiously, the pen hovered in the air, just above the paper, and she straightened up a little more and turned towards Andy, with a look in her eyes that might have told her to shut up, or to elaborate, because Miranda looked a little confused. Andy, for the second time, made a bad decision; "I-I-I just mean, that they liked to use big fonts in the older movies. Kubrick, for example, not in every single one of them, like to make the title cover almost the entire screen. Usually they do it just because it looks nice, but sometimes it just fits the subject of the movie, especially if it's more psychological and..." Andy took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and exhaled shakily. "... and I'm rambling."

"Yes." Miranda concluded and looked at her for a moment with an undefined gaze before returning to writing more notes. "How can this be nice?" She asked suddenly, almost shoving the Book in Andy's face.

Andy grabbed it and moved it further a bit. Now, she was looking at one of the mock-ups for the next Runway cover. Keira Knightley, stood at an angle to the camera, leaning against the white wall, giving it a slight smile. The wet hair effect really suited her and at that moment Andy decided she would have to ask Nigel if something like that would suit her as well as the hair length. However, what attracted the most attention was the name of the magazine. 'RUNWAY', although hidden behind the actress's head, was too heavy for the bright background; the colour and thickness of the letters did not match the rest at all. Andy wrinkled her nose slightly.

"Exactly." Miranda stated, probably seeing her reaction.

"Okay, this one isn't the best example, but it can be done right." Why am I like that?, Andy thought, because for some reason, she couldn't shut up when it was time.

"Really, Andrea, how so?"

Was that a trick question? It certainly was, Miranda had that sly smile that would appear on her lips every time she knew her opponent was digging his own grave, and she just watched.

"A-all I'm saying is, that they like to use it in the movies, because it can have also a psychological view to it. Most often, they use such large and somehow uncomfortable fonts in movies that are also intended to put you in such a mood. They take up the entire screen, thus limiting your view of what's behind them. If it's matched, it looks good to the eye, so yes... it can look nice." She breathed again, realizing that her left leg was shaking just a little. "If it fits the theme, of course."

Miranda looked at her with a certain twinkle in her eye until she finally reached for the Book with her left hand and moved it from Andy's lap to hers. She pursed her lips, but not in the same way as when she looked at Holt's ugly dress, but thoughtfully. She took off her reading glasses and held them in her right hand, which she placed on the pages.

"It's all really nice, but it's a cover of a magazine, Andrea. It's not supposed to make you feel uncomfortable." She replied, that small, unpleasant smile returning to her lips, and Andy fought hard not to roll her eyes.

"Yeah, I know that." She snapped and only then, seeing Miranda's face return to its bored expression, and only then did she realize that Miranda was just teasing. In a second, all the irritation vanished into thin air. "I gotta give it to you, this one is ugly..." She pointed at the mock-up in the Book. "... but still, they maybe wanted to go for that kind of look."

Miranda snorted and put her glasses back on, resting on the bridge of her nose, and grabbed her red pen again.

"No, they are just stupid" She replied, not taking her eyes off what she was working on and Andy didn't dare say anything more.

She took a deep breath, because this time she was starting to get angry not with Miranda, but with herself, because it was her fault that their conversation, which was one of the few that resembled a civilized one, ended. She met Roy's gaze in the mirror, but she couldn't read anything in his eyes, although she could bet that he was as shocked as she was, because, of course, he heard every word they said.

At that moment they slowed down, Andy looked out the window and only now realized that before she had no idea where they were going, and now, they were right outside her apartment. She felt her jaw drop slightly, because who would expect such a nice gesture from...

"Take your time, Andrea, I do plan on spending the whole night in front of your apartment."

Never mind.

Andy glanced quickly at Miranda, but the woman didn't react in any way, so she took her purse, bade them goodnight, and went out onto the sidewalk. She stood watching for a moment until the silver Mercedes disappeared around the corner and, clenching her jaw, she checked the time; it was almost 10pm.

She really didn't want to go home yet, knowing full well who was waiting for her.

When she entered the apartment the previous evening, she did her best to be as quiet as possible. She remembered that Nate had been working overtime lately, so she wasn't surprised when this time he didn't wait for her so late, but instead slept soundly. She didn't blame him, of course, and was even glad that she had at least a few moments to herself after such a demanding day. Andy immediately took off her shoes, moved much slower than she would have liked, and decided not to make herself anything to eat, despite the sucking feeling in her stomach, so as not to accidentally slam anything. She just took a quick shower, changed into one of Nate's old T-shirts and her comfiest boxers, and slipped carefully into bed, falling asleep within ten seconds.

So the next morning, she woke up irritated. Yes, the bedroom door was closed, but the music and the sounds of cabinets closing and opening still reached her. Just like the shuffling and moving of a frying pan on the stove, the tapping of a knife on a wooden board, and the kettle boiling water.

She looked at the clock on the night stand next to her and felt like crying when she saw that it was only 4am. Since she had much more work than before, which she found hard to believe, Sundays became the only day off in her life, and she still expected at least two work-related phone calls. She was overtired and constantly sleep-deprived, which is why she got angry much more quickly about even the smallest things that she would have completely ignored in the past.

She turned over and closed her eyes tightly, hoping that she would still be able to fall asleep, because the fact that Nate was entitled to different days off than hers, meant, that he also worked on Sundays. It should not mean that she also had to get up so early. It won't work, she thought, and with a loud sigh she threw off the covers and left the bedroom, heading straight to the bathroom, grabbing the phone from the cabinet on the way.

"Oh, hey, baby! Up already?" Nate greeted her, turning from one of the pans where butter was sizzling.

"Yeah." Andy mumbled and closed the door behind her, sitting on the closed toilet.

She rested her elbows on her knees and rested her head on her hands, which she buried in her tangled hair. She closed her eyes and began rubbing until the familiar spots appeared. Andy took a breath and leaned back, reaching for her phone that she had thrown into the sink earlier. She checked to see if any messages had arrived overnight, knowing from experience that her job never sleept.

"Andy! Come, you can eat with me!" Nate called from behind the door and Andy found herself rolling her eyes at him.

She didn't understand where this was coming from for a long time, because Nate had never annoyed her before. Yes, they had been arguing about her work and the lack of time together, but over the last month they had managed to come to an agreement, even if it was a bit shaky. However, for several days she found herself in a position where she was angry at him for absolutely no reason. She enjoyed the moments when she came home, and he was asleep, which made her feel terrible about herself. Nate didn't do anything to deserve such treatment, on the contrary, he did his best to support her, even though he made unnecessary comments from time to time. He was just taking every opportunity he could to spend some time with her, and that should make her happy, Andy knew that, but for some reason it didn't. She loved him, damn it, she really did, but currently he was one of the people she least wanted to look at.

She got up from the toilet, flushed the water for good measure, and washed her face with cold water before leaving the bathroom.

She closed the door quietly behind her and walked into the kitchen, stopping in shock in the doorway when she saw what Nate had prepared.

"I don't have much time, but since you're already awake, I thought we could eat together before I leave." Nate explained and gave her a smile that had made her weak in the knees not so long ago.

Andy glanced towards one of the windows and swallowed loudly so as not to groan in despair when she saw how dark it still was. She wanted to go back to bed and not talk to anyone for the next few hours. Instead, she sat down at one of the prepared plates, tucking her left leg under her and reaching for the orange juice that was already waiting for her in her favourite mug. Nate flipped something in the pan twice more, then turned around and, coming from her right, placed the omelet on her plate. Andy smiled crookedly at him, hoping it looked a lot better than she expected, and reached for her fork.

She felt terrible about herself. Here she was, annoyed with her boyfriend who did such things for her at 4am. She was a terrible girlfriend.

"So? How are you feeling?" Nate asked as he sat down across from her, leaning over his scrambled eggs.

Andy took a bite and swallowed hard because she felt like that omelet, no matter how tasty it looks, will immediately stick in her throat.

"Fine." She replied, but realizing how bored she sounded, she quickly added; "I could use some more sleep, though."

"Yeah, I'm surprised you're up already."

Andy squeezed her jaw slightly, feeling a new wave of nerves approaching her, but she decided to calm it down. He didn't wake her up on purpose, and even though he was in a hurry, he also made breakfast for her! She really did feel terrible for being annoyed.

"Hmm."

When did talking to him become so difficult? When had talking to him become some kind of chore she had to fulfil since they were together? The worst thing was that Andy had no idea why such a change. Maybe she knew, but she didn't allow herself to think about it and that was why she was at a loss for words, but the truth was that in some way she was trying to avoid most opportunities where they could spend more time together.

She didn't miss Nate's worried look, and the guilt hit her with a vengeance. She decided to eat them down with the omelet.

"Umm, so what are you up to today?" He tried again.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll meet with Doug, I haven't seen him in a while." Andy thought of it on the spot, and only when the words left her mouth did she realize it was actually a good idea.

Nate smiled at her again over his cup of coffee, and this time Andy gave him a slightly bigger smile.

"I'm going for drinks with Tom in the evening." She added, figuring she might as well keep their conversation going.

"Tom?" Nate asked, his tone cautious, and Andy looked up from her plate with a raised eyebrow. "Who's that?"

"A guy from work." She shrugged. "He's the one to bring me the Book in the evenings."

"Oh, okay then."

Say what? Andy frowned slightly as she sipped her juice and straightened up in her chair, now fully leaning against the back of it, and placed her fork on the edge of her plate.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's gay, so it's fine by me."

A short laugh escaped Andy's lips, caused by the shock she had just experienced at her boyfriend's words, who was also giving her a confused look.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Nate looked at her in confusion as he chewed on the piece of scrambled eggs he had just popped into his mouth, and Andy winced slightly as she could see the whole process with her own eyes.

"Well..."

"Why do you just assume that he's gay?" Andy asked, shocking herself, why she had such an offensive reaction. Of course, Nate's assumption was inappropriate in the slightest, but she knew her behaviour was just looking for a taunt. "Just because he works at Runway?"

"Is he not?"

"I don't know!" Andy raised her voice a little and leaned over the omelet again, lifting her fork.

"Sounds like you don't want him to be."

"Oh my God..." She whispered and, putting down the fork again, ran her fingers through her hair, returning to its previous position. "Is this what this is about?"

"You tell me!" Nate growled and pushed the plate away from him. His right hand was lying on the table and clenched into a fist. He breathed loudly, closing his eyes. "All I wanted was for us to have a nice breakfast together, and now it's turning into this... whatever it is."

"It's your jealousy problem, that's what it is." Andy growled and knew she was overreacting as soon as the words left her mouth.

This entire morning, what it turned into, was her fault. She was aware of it, but she couldn't stop it, and what's worse, she didn't want to. Whether it was because she was feeling bad or because she needed an excuse for them not to talk to each other again for a few days was unknown to her. What she was sure of, however, was how much she hated herself at that moment, because her behaviour was toxic and evil and disgusting, and yet she was the main instigator.

"What the fuck is your problem here, Andy?"

She swallowed hard and looked down at her legs, unable to face what she initially wanted.

"I'm sorry, Nate, I just... I didn't sleep well and..."

"So what, you want to start arguing recreationally now? You've changed. Since when have you been working there..."

"Not this again."

"... it's getting worse between us! What do you mean with the 'not this again' bullshit, huh?" Nate took a few deep breaths and sniffed while he pulled non-existent hair off the tablecloth.

"I said I'm sorry!" She started over, because what else could she say in such a situation? She was truly sorry, she realized.

"You're constantly 'sorry', and yet, here we are." He raised his hands, pointing to the space between them, and dropped them loudly on the table, making Andy jump slightly.

"I-I-...I'm just tired, Nate, so..."

"Yeah, heard that before."

"Oh my God! Can you drop this passive-aggressive act?" Andy raised her voice again.

She breathed heavily, moving her jaw back and forth slightly, trying not to let go of the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. Andy wasn't going to let a single tear escape now. She might as well say everything she had to say to him now, even if the words were formed as she spoke.

She had already thought several times about how she could talk to him. What could she say and how? It sounded bad every time, like she was a little kid complaining that her mother was paying too much attention to her. That's how it was, wasn't it? When they started dating almost five years ago, they spent almost every free moment together, enjoying each other's company, annoying their friends with the fact that they were inseparable. It was something Andy had once loved about him; the need for closeness that equalled hers. So she wasn't sure what had changed about her over the last few months, but the things that were her favourites about Nate had become something she could barely stand. She was overcome with this sudden need for space, for moments without him in sight or hearing. Except it all happened so suddenly that it's no wonder Nate couldn't keep up with the pace she set on their relationship, which she wanted to develop in a completely different direction.

Breaking up was something that had only crossed her mind once, and she had been so frightened by the thought then that she didn't dare to go back to it. Now, when she looked into the eyes of the boy she still loved so much, she knew that it was because of the feeling that had connected them for so long that she would not be able to end it.

She opened her mouth to finally say something, anything, because the silence between them was already so tense that she was starting to feel her skin tingle, but then;

"I have to go to work." Nate stood up abruptly, throwing the cloth on the table and moving past her, careful not to touch her.

She listened as he put on his shoes, reached for his backpack, pulled his keys out of the small bowl where they were kept, and slammed the door loudly behind him. Andy shuddered and took a deep, ragged breath and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, causing two tears to roll down her cheeks.

It was not the morning she was hoping for.

She hadn't been able to sleep from the events that had transpired that morning. She walked from one corner of the apartment to another, alternately crying and staring at the walls. Only when it was relatively late did she call Doug, who immediately agreed to come. Apart from feeling like a terrible girlfriend, she also felt like one of the worst friends to have because the last conversation she had with him was over a month ago. In all likelihood, if it weren't for her failing relationship, she still wouldn't even text.

Doug slowly followed her into the apartment as she opened the door for him and, without a word, returned to the couch where she had been sitting, crossing her legs beneath her. He closed the door behind him and slowly walked over to her, sitting right next to her, making sure their knees were touching. Clearing his throat, he slowly raised his hands to place them on Andy's lap.

"You look like shit." He stated, causing a short, broken laugh to escape from Andy's throat. She looked up at him and smiled crookedly through the tears that were starting to form again in the corners of her eyes. "Spill it."

"I-, um... I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me, Douggie." She started slowly, getting annoyed that she couldn't stop her voice from cracking.

Doug didn't speak, giving her a moment to gather her thoughts and form what she wanted to say. And there were so many things she wanted to talk about, but she didn't know how. Everything that was happening between her and Nate had been following her like a shadow for a long time, and she felt much better ignoring it. She wasn't ready to face reality, to admit to herself that the fact that she had been avoiding his presence for so long could mean anything other than just that she was sleep-deprived.

She wanted to talk to Lily, feeling like her best friend would understand her much better than anyone else, but she hadn't heard from her in over two months. She would like to believe that their relationship was one in which they could not say a word for such a long time and then go back to their old ways as if the break had never happened at all. However, Andy was afraid that it wouldn't look like this, so she only postponed making this simple phone call, not being ready for confrontation.

Doug, on the other hand, was exactly that kind of friend. She hadn't spoken to him for so long, and yet one phone call was enough, and he was already there.

"I'm such an awful person... I-" She sniffled, and then she grunted, mad at herself for not being able to word her thoughts. "We had a fight...another one."

"Okay..."

She told him how the whole situation went down, sparing no details, even though she felt bad about going through it all again, especially since it was caused by her own stupidity. Doug listened to her carefully, nodding at appropriate moments to encourage her to continue speaking.

"You should break up." He pronounced his sentence, and Andy looked away from her hands and jerked her head up to look at him in shock. "I'm serious, Andy, what's going on between you two is unhealthy for him and for you. You're both just torturing yourself."

"But I love him... how could I-"

"Then love him from a distance." Doug interrupted her, and she closed her mouth, which until then had been slightly open.

She forgot how honest and unprecedented Doug is.

"I need some help here." She started, sniffled, and blinked a few times to clear away the remnants of tears. "I know I'm fucking this all up, I really do, but I have no idea how to stop this. For some reason I'm constantly annoyed when I'm with him."

Doug looked at her for a moment, then stood up and went to the freezer and pulled out the chocolate ice cream Andy had hidden deep in the back, knowing that Nate didn't like her eating the store-bought ones when he made much better ones himself in his opinion. He reached for a spoon from the drawer, closed it with a movement of his hip, and pushed everything into her hands.

"Eat."

"I don't want-"

"I said eat and stop pissing me off." Doug interrupted her again, and something in his tone caused her to open the box and shove a large spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "The problem is that he's acting like a baby, complaining constantly about everything you do, Andy. No wonder you don't want to be with him if you're stressed about being told you're doing something wrong again."

"I want to be with him but I keep making it..." She whined and then put more ice cream into her mouth.

"Yeah, no shit, you know what you're doing wrong? You're stuck in this, wasting your time, but also his. I know you love him, but sorry, girl, Nate has long been acting like a spoiled brat who can't understand that you have other priorities in life than doing his laundry."

"But..." Andy didn't even know what she should say.

Was Doug right? Yes, she was mad at Nate for his complete lack of understanding, but they had talked about it a lot. He said he understood, apologized, and they went back to what was before and for some time they were doing fine. So why is she always so irritated?

"It was better for some time." Andy decided to verbalize her thoughts. "We talked, he understood and it was better, like in the old days! Yet, for some reason I still felt this... this anger at him and because of that I'm always mad at myself and I don't want to feel that way!"

"Andy." Doug sighed heavily and took the ice cream from her hands, setting it on the table next to the couch, ignoring her frown. He pulled the spoon out of her mouth and dropped it right next to the ice cream and grabbed her hands in his. "No matter what you do, I will support and help you, but don't be surprised that you feel this way, since he showed you all his worst sides with this behaviour. In your eyes, he is now a grumpy child that you have to take care of and for some reason constantly explain yourself."

Andy nodded slowly, wanting to show him that she understood what he meant. She laughed suddenly, remembering one of their more impressive arguments;

"You know what I have to explain most often? Phone calls from Miranda."

Doug frowned and smiled crookedly.

"What do you mean? It's your job to answer the phone."

"Exactly!" Andy sat up suddenly, too excited that someone finally understood. "Exactly! And yet every single time I'm answering, he's getting all red in the face and of all the things jealous. Of Miranda."

She laughed bitterly and shook her head, pulling her arms out of her friend's embrace and reaching for the ice cream again, shovelling another spoonful into her mouth.

"And the best part about it-" She began to say, pointing at Doug with the spoon while trying to stop her brain freeze; "-is that most of our fights are about this woman! It's like he convinced himself that I'd prefer to spend my whole days with her instead of him, my boyfriend."

"Well, don't you?" Doug asked suddenly, but Andy didn't even have time to hear his question properly, instead continuing her rant;

"And how can he blame me, really... With Miranda, at least I know what to expect. Our relationship is transparent and clear. Recently, things have become strange, because she started talking to me almost like a normal person and I don't really know how to navigate it." She shrugged, still unaware of Doug's gaze on her. "It's like she's teasing me all the time, ya know? Yesterday, for example, she drove me home, and we talked about fonts almost the entire way..."

"Fonts?"

"...and the strangest thing was that she didn't tell me to shut up, and instead listened to everything I said." She chuckled to herself, remembering the sly smile Miranda had had when Andy finally realized she'd forgotten who she was talking to. "I don't even know how to interpret it, and so far I have been able to predict all her whims."

She finished and, dipping her spoon into the ice cream again, looked up at her friend, who had a very vague expression on his face.

"Do you always talk about her like that?"

"Like what?"

"I mean... with so much passion."

"What?"

Andy was confused. She always talked about Miranda this way, but how could she be any different when she spent most of her day-to-day life with her. Duh, Andy's life revolved around Miranda, everything she did was with the woman's convenience in mind, she was available at her beck and call. Yes, she talked about her often, but how could she not, when Miranda was her job?

"I'm just sayin', you seem to like her."

Did she? At the very beginning she didn't, that's for sure. She still wasn't convinced that what she felt towards her was even a sympathy, but what other word to describe it? She spent almost every moment with her, so she had to find a starting point so as not to strangle Miranda with her bare hands, and it had crossed her mind more than once. However, since the woman was engaging in even the smallest conversations with her, Andy realized that she would like there to be more of them, but not even because she expected any friendship with her boss, but simply that such an arrangement was much easier to bare.

"I guess I do."

"You didn't at the beginning." Doug stated, and something in his voice made Andy decide to be more careful about what she said.

"No, she was annoying the shit out of me."

"So what changed, 'couse I know that Miranda ain't the one for being friendly with her staff."

"And how do you know?" Andy snapped and cursed at herself immediately in her mind, knowing full well what she was about to hear; every time she became protective of Miranda, she then would hear a ton of extremely unfunny jokes or that she was just stupid and naive.

Doug, on the other hand, just smirked and didn't comment anything else about her boss.

"So what will you do?"

Andy sighed heavily at the mention of the topic of conversation that had brought her friend to see her in the first place. She put the ice cream on the table and sat a little more comfortably on the couch, now leaning back her left knee against Doug's thigh.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I want it to work like it used to, you know? I- I love him, I wanna be with him, but at the same time even the thought of being in the same room is exhausting."

"Think about it, you know my opinion, what you do with it is your decision, just promise me that you won't torture yourself for too long. Neither yourself nor him."

"Okay." She nodded and hoped very much that she would be able to keep her word.

A new day, a new week meant a new attitude for Andy — that's what she tried to tell herself.

After such a terrible weekend, Andy was sure she wouldn't even be able to get out of bed to go to work. She spent her day off in bed and didn't think Monday would be kinder to her in terms of even wanting to open her eyes. To her own surprise, when the alarm rang, before the sun had had time to blanket the city with its rays, she woke up and felt an inner peace. She got up with pleasure, got dressed with pleasure, and closed the apartment door behind her with even greater pleasure, hurrying to the subway.

Andy surprised herself by discovering that this job brought her a kind of inner peace. She was great at what she did, there was nothing that could surprise her, and even if it did, she could handle it without a problem — Lagerfeld was a great example.

As she stood in front of the mirror this morning, looking at herself in an outfit from the latest Dennis Basso collection; a black and white dress above the knee, with short sleeves that flowed beautifully in the wind. Narrow stripes at the bottom that nicely highlighted the patterns at the top. She also wore red heels from Dolce&Gabbana. Her hair was in a high ponytail that bounced with her every step, and she slightly curled her bangs.

She's going to have to hug Nigel for giving her that dress because she wasn't convinced at first.

Well, as she stood and looked at herself in this outfit, she had a momentary thought that she was looking forward to that look from Miranda that she got every time they saw each other for the first time during the day. That long look that stretched from the very top of her head to the tops of her high heels and back again. She always got a nod that boosted her self-esteem enough, but recently Andy hoped, that picking out her clothes in the morning would get her even bigger reaction from Miranda . She only received a smile once, and she felt so proud of it that she could have changed her name to Tom Ford. She would give a lot to see it again.

"Hey, Andy!" She heard and placed the mug next to the sink she had just finished washing in the small kitchen behind her desk.

"Hi, what's up?" She asked with a broad smile when she stood face to face with her friend.

Tom placed the Book on the desk in front of her and smiled slyly at her.

"Could be better, ya know, I got stood up yesterday."

Andy was about to say how sorry she was about this, when it suddenly dawned on her, and she opened her eyes wide and looked at him apologetically. The truth was that she had completely forgotten about the meeting they had arranged for the previous day. She was quite sure that even if she hadn't forgotten, she would have cancelled it, because after the argument with Nate and the general outline of the situation they were in, she didn't feel like meeting people.

"Oh God!" She covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm so, so sorry! I totally forgot, I'm-"

"It's okay, really." Tom laughed, and Andy studied him for a moment, as if looking for confirmation of his lack of regret in more than words. "How about you'll give me your number, so you can just text me the next time that you won't come, huh? How 'bout that?"

Andy bit her lower lip lightly, but released it just as quickly, allowing a wide smile to appear on her face. She laughed somewhat awkwardly.

She knew, of course, when someone was flirting with her. It wasn't like she was completely blind to this sort of thing. She wasn't interested in Tom — in the situation she was currently in, she didn't think she was interested in anyone, not even Nate. Andy didn't really know what to think about all this, because on the one hand she wanted to save her long-term relationship, too attached to the feelings she had for her boyfriend, and on the other hand, the darkness was starting to cloud her mind, telling her that sooner or later the time will come. Tom was... fine, she might like him, she couldn't deny his good looks and charming smile, but she wasn't looking for a replacement for her current relationship. She felt bad even thinking about these things in these terms, but the constant emotional exhaustion and rage that filled her made her unable to do anything else.

"Maybe I will, who knows." She raised one eyebrow, but made no move towards actually sharing her number. She would feel bad about it, like she was cheating on Nate, even though her relationship with Tom wasn't romantic in any way.

"Andrea?" Miranda's voice echoed through the room as she returned to her office, looking at Tom as if she had absolutely no idea who he was or what he was doing there.

He, however, now looked like a little boy caught in a bad deed. He quickly straightened his shirt, buttoning one of the buttons, when he saw Miranda scan him with a frosty gaze and cleared his throat awkwardly. Andy was a little amused by the whole situation. Of course, not everyone knew about the crisis that had occurred, but it was impossible to hide it that Miranda was now staying in the office much longer than before. So how could he have missed it?

"Im, umm, I'm gonna go." He pointed at the door, and Miranda took two slow steps forward, making room and keeping her eyes on him. "Bye, Andy!" He quickly turned to her and winked, then hurried to leave.

Miranda looked back at him, a completely undefined expression on her face. She took a step back towards her office until she finally turned fully to face Andy. She watched her for a moment, examining her outfit today for the second time, with an attention she hadn't paid to it in a long time. Andy wasn't sure which was better; smiling or looking at her clothes more than once a day. She gave Miranda a shy smile and picked up the Book from her desk and held it out to the woman without saying a word.

Miranda took it from Andy's hands and motioned for her to follow her.

Andy quickly grabbed her notebook and followed, watching as she sat down at her desk, searching for a suitable page to start working on. This was a bit surprising, because Miranda usually preferred to go home with the Book and deal with it there, because of the twins.

"Sit." Miranda said without even looking up at her, holding a red pen in her right hand and already taking her first notes.

Andy swallowed and knew she only had a few seconds to make a decision. Sit down now in a very awkward — for her — silence, waiting to see what Miranda will say, if she says anything at all, or go back to her desk, grab the papers she was working on, and only then sit down on Miranda's other side to work in silence next to her. She counted to five in her head, telling herself that this extra time would give her more courage, and perhaps that she would receive some information from heaven itself about what Miranda was actually expecting now.

Andy made her decision, turned on her heel and returned to her station. She gathered all the papers she was working on, grabbed some coloured pens she was using, and walked back into Miranda's office, sat down in one of the chairs that were a little further away from the editor-in-chief so as not to take up too much space, and unfolded her things. She felt Miranda's eyes on her, of course, and prayed that the decision she had made wasn't the wrong one. When after a while the feeling of being watched disappeared and her face stopped burning with nerves and stress, she exhaled quietly through her nose and focused on what she had been working on earlier;

In a way, she was grateful to her father for how much he encouraged her since childhood to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer. When she was a little girl, she loved hearing about his trials and how the whole process progressed, from the moment the accusations were made to the verdict. She asked about the roles of lawyers, judge, jury... She was interested in it so much that she was not surprised when, from the moment she started high school, her father slowly started encouraging her to eventually go to university, study law, and eventually take over. Yes, for Andy, her father's job seemed much more interesting than her mother's, because being a psychologist was never something that appealed to her — being one for her friends was enough for her. While listening to others was one of her favourite things, the responsibility that psychologists had, how much weight rested on their shoulders after days of hearing sometimes terrible things, was not something she could handle well. The law spoke to her, yes. She applied to Stanford Law School and spent over a year there. However, fate wanted her to give it up and focus on what appealed to her the most from an early age.

She really hoped that the diaries she wrote all day long a dozen years ago, when she was still running around the house with her two pigtails and their dog, Rufus, were still gathering dust in the attic. Andy would never want to lose them, because they held a very large and important part of her life. She described everything in them; from what she ate for breakfast to how she imagined her future wedding.

Andy blinked slower at the thought and grimaced slightly, feeling the bitter taste of defeat. Just a year ago, she had imagined a beautiful future with Nate; even their wedding, which was so important to him, although it had not been a priority for her since she had grown up. She knew she would have married him then if he asked, but now, she wasn't so sure.

She focused on the stack of cards she had been printing for most of the day. Of course, she hadn't learned much after studying law for such a short time, but the knowledge she had gathered burned brightly in her mind, like everything else her father had taught her. She turned one page over the other and began to read;

She tried to find any provisions in contracts, regulations not only for Runway, but for the whole of Elias-Clarke companies. They would have to wait a little longer for the camera recordings, because the management was now paying special attention to security, and therefore Frank could not deliver the recordings to Andy — she was in constant contact with him. But she wanted to find any clauses that could help them; if not in catching the person responsible, then in drawing specific consequences and even compensation.

"What is this?" Miranda asked suddenly, after at least thirty minutes of silence.

Andy looked up from her notes when she heard the question along with the rustle of one of the papers she had arranged in a neat pile on Miranda's desk, far enough away that she still had plenty of room for herself.

"Oh, umm, I'm looking for any regulations that would help us if any material from the Runway issue would also appear in another publication." She explained with a slight smile, twirling the green pen in her hand. "I don't want to spoil things, of course, but I thought it was worth knowing what Elias-Clarke offers in such situations, especially since we don't have much help from them yet." She added a little more quietly, not sure how expressing her opinion in such an unprecedented way might be perceived.

"Andrea, why are you doing this? It's a job for a lawyer, not an assistant." Miranda said bluntly, pushing her reading glasses up her nose a bit and starting to scan another sheet of paper from the stack.

Andy decided not to be offended or proud, and any sarcastic comment that came to her mind she swallowed twice to be sure.

"Well, I was almost a lawyer, so I decided to check... just to be sure." It wasn't until she said it out loud that she realized how it could be perceived, but she couldn't help that comments like that rubbed her the wrong way. It was enough for her that her friends laughed at what her job was and didn't take it seriously, if Miranda were to start insulting her now, she was sure that she would quickly enter one of the biggest existential crises of her life.

Miranda glanced at her quickly, scanning her face for a moment, but didn't comment on the slightly condescending tone Andy used.

"You only studied law for a little over a year." She began, and Andy, barely able to keep her jaw from dropping, stared at Miranda in disbelief. "Stanford Law is an excellent school, of course, but I do not think, that only that amount of time would be enough to do any work here."

Andy continued to blink without saying a word until she shook her head slightly, trying to reboot her brain. Miranda must have understood her look because she immediately added;

"I did read your resume." She said firmly, with a crooked smile, as if it hurt her personally that Andy might think otherwise, and at that moment she wanted to do everything she could to assure the older woman that that wasn't the case at all, even if it was. "Did you think I would hire just any pretty girl from the shore without any interest in her education? I'm not a man, you know that, don't you?"

Andy shook her head and swallowed.

"No, I mean yes!" Andy cringed. "I do know that, I just, I- I don't know what i thought, I'm sorry."

"Hmm." Miranda grunted, cleared her throat, and went back to looking through more of Andy's papers. "May I?" She asked suddenly, this time completely throwing Andy off her rhythm, and extended her hand towards her notebook.

She nodded quickly and handed her her notes as quickly as possible while waiting for the verdict. She didn't think Miranda had any more legal knowledge than the average person, but that couldn't be taken away from her incredible intelligence; whatever feedback Andy might receive, she was going to accept it with open arms.

Miranda placed her notebook in front of her and leaned over it slightly, the same way she leaned when filling out necessary paperwork. Andy couldn't help but feel the warm feeling spread across her stomach, knowing that Miranda was serious about reviewing her assistant's work. She didn't do it without attention, she didn't turn page after page every few seconds, missing most of her research — instead, she read every word carefully and seemed genuinely interested, despite her initial shock that Andy had decided to even bother with it. At one point, she reached for a red pen with her right hand and opened it. Andy stopped breathing for a moment, but then she noticed that Miranda put it back down and turned her head slightly to the side, as she did when something caught her eye, as if the further information Andy had written down would explain well enough what might have previously seemed wrong.

Andy guessed it might take a while, especially since she was aware of how long she had been working on it and how much of it she had actually written down. So she stood up from her seat, catching the attention of Miranda, who looked up at her with a questioning look. Andy shook her head slightly and nodded at her notebook, not daring to break the silence and left the office, relieved to see that Miranda actually listened to her and went back to reading.

She walked into the kitchen attached to their office and began searching through the cabinets. She glanced at the clock nearby and sighed as she saw that it was slowly approaching 10pm. However, she didn't have as much of a problem with it as she certainly would have had before. She liked this extra time with Miranda, especially since the hours they were alone were the only times her boss was... different. Andy couldn't decide whether she was more herself, because she didn't think she would ever have such an honour as meeting Miranda on a personal rather than professional basis. Still, she appreciated every minute of it, because she realized that most people who knew Miranda would never see her in this light.

She smiled to herself as she found exactly what she was looking for, right where she had hidden it long ago — honey. She swallowed the saliva that came to her mouth just thinking about the taste and reached for the jar. She quickly put water in the kettle and prepared two mugs. From one of the drawers she took out tea that she had received a long time ago from her mother, who dried herbs herself, and poured some into it, hoping that she remembered the proportions correctly. As soon as the water boiled, she poured boiling water over, and, after putting the kettle aside, used a small spoon to press the herbs lightly to the bottom of the cups. After a few minutes, when the tea was brewed and cooled enough, she added two tablespoons of honey and stirred until it dissolved, throwing away the grounds first. Satisfied and praying that Miranda wouldn't tell her to pour it all out, she returned to the office, not forgetting the coasters.

Miranda, apparently sensing her presence, did not look up but began to speak;

"Andrea, if you want to spend time on this, I can tell you right now that... what is that?" She asked as she finally looked up to see Andy placing a mug in front of her and taking a sip from hers as she sat down in her seat.

"Tea. Herbal tea with honey." She replied shyly, sort of hiding behind the mug. "It's, uh, my favourite." She added and looked hopefully at Miranda, who looked at her for a moment, then at the tea, and finally, with only a slight hesitation, she raised the cup to her mouth, sniffed, hummed and took a sip.

Andy waited for the verdict;

"Hmm." Miranda smiled slightly and Andy almost jumped out of her chair with happiness, because no matter how long you knew Miranda, this woman was so mysterious and complicated that it was almost impossible to please her, especially by doing something for her without explicit instructions. It was like condemning yourself to death if you didn't get it right. "I don't remember the last time I drank tea."

"You don't like it?" Andy, she wasn't sure where from, summoned the courage to ask the question.

"I do." Miranda assured and took another sip before placing the mug back on the desk. "But there is no good tea here in America."

Andy frowned slightly, not understanding where this assumption came from. She's been to many places, including here in New York, where the teas were really good. However, she guessed that it was hard to please Miranda's taste buds, which made her even more proud of her recipe.

"So where do you drink it, if ever?"

"In London." She answered specifically, as if it was the most obvious answer and Andy should have guessed. "Though I feel like I'll start here too."

Andy couldn't stop smiling for almost another ten minutes.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there in silence, working on. She and Miranda spent some time discussing any legal provisions that might work in their favour. Andy was proud of herself. Now Miranda was back to checking the Book, and even though she was focusing again on writing down any points she considered crucial, her mind kept coming back to them as they worked together, exchanging ideas. Miranda, of course, knew a lot more about this than Andy had first suspected. Still, there were moments when she was the one explaining something, and at a few she felt a bit disappointed that she didn't know even more. Knowing that she was helping in this way and was able to help the magazine even in areas other than just answering the phone was reassuring. She was sure that when she returned home she would decide to learn even more and perhaps she would finally pick up the phone and call her father. She knew it would probably give him hopes that his younger daughter would decide to return to law and give up journalism, but she was able to face it.

"I must admit, Andrea, I didn't think you were that kind of girl." Miranda spoke up after some time. "Tom?"

It was already dark outside the windows. Andy had completely lost track of time, as had Miranda, but she found herself not even wanting to check. They have been working like this for a long time. She felt comfortable here; This was a thought that occurred to her not for the first time that day, and she accepted it with less and less surprise. Because really, when she had to choose between being here, doing something that mattered and made her feel fulfilled, or going home and hearing how useless she was in her boyfriend's eyes, the choice seemed obvious.

"Sometimes we talk, he brings me the Book every day." She replied and looked up at Miranda, who was watching her closely. It was an appraising look, she was aware of it, but it didn't make her as uncomfortable as before, even though the hidden question had a rather negative connotation. "He's nice."

"I thought you had your cook..." Miranda waved her hand in the air as if searching for words, but then grimaced, as if she had just realized how personal this conversation was. Andy looked confused and Miranda must have noticed because she quickly added; "You don't have to answer that, Andrea. What my employees do is something I'm not interested in."

But you asked...

At that moment, Andy felt a sudden surge of strong need to explain that it was completely different than it might have looked from the outside. She felt enough guilt about her behaviour in her relationship with Nate for others to began to see her in a similar light. Her own poor self-esteem was enough for her. Miranda was the last person Andy wanted such an opinion from.

"No! No, it's not like that." She laughed nervously, feeling the atmosphere between them thicken in a strange way that she didn't like one bit. "Sometimes we'll exchange a few words, he's a friend, I guess. I have a boyfriend." She added and clenched her jaw tightly, because with the last words she felt a knot in her stomach, as if these words were no longer true or relevant enough to be able to say them out loud.

She really was a terrible girlfriend.

"I see." Miranda replied quietly and looked back at one of the mock-ups she was working on, but then she looked back at Andy, her gaze even harder. "Since you seem to be this informed, I do believe that you're aware that of any affairs between the employees of Runway, HR must be informed, right? Especially now, because believe me, when I say, that something like that to distract you is the last thing I need."

Andy felt like falling into the ground. What the hell was that? Count on Miranda to do a complete hundred and eighty on you in a matter of seconds. She felt her cheeks begin to burn, and the previous relaxation vanished into thin air as discomfort and a kind of shame took its place.

"Miranda, um..." She started slowly, smiling evilly because it was the only way she could shed some of her stress and then came anger, she realized, because who the hell was Miranda to accuse her of something like that, and interfere in her private life to this extent? "I don't know what kind of experiences you had, but I'm the last person that could do something like that to another human being. I'm not interested in Tom, he's just a guy who comes around with the Book and sometimes he tries to get a date a little too much. So, yeah, I'd appreciate you not thinking of me in those terms."

She was breathing a little heavier than usual. On the one hand, she was pissed at such impertinence, but on the other, she was disappointed that Miranda could even say something like that. It wasn't that they were friends, far from it, but Andy knew they had a friendlier relationship than this woman had with many people. She even went so far as to say that Miranda sort of liked her, even though she would most likely never hear it from her. This really long evening they spent working together was one of her best in a long time, but of course she must have miscalculated and perhaps even forgotten who she was dealing with, because Miranda couldn't do without making at least one hurtful comment.

Andy wanted to get up and leave because she felt like she would start crying, which only made her more angry with herself. However, she decided to hold Miranda's gaze, which became much colder as she spoke. It was one of those that had not been directed at her for a long time, and it even resembled the one she had been hit with the first time she decided to carry the Book upstairs at the urging of her daughters.

"Is he bothering you?" Miranda asked in a low tone that not only made Andy's blood run cold but caught her completely off guard. She was prepared for one of the Cerulean monologues because of the tone she spoke with, but instead Miranda focused on something completely different.

"N-no." She answered after a while, mentally cursing herself for stuttering. Miranda noticed this too, because she frowned and tilted her head slightly. "He's harmless."

"Well…" Miranda started slowly and now even she looked as confused as Andy, probably feeling the awkwardness of the whole situation. "I wouldn't wan-, if something like that would ever happen, tell me. I don't want this type of behaviour in my magazine."

Andy decided to ignore Miranda's little slip, knowing that if she pointed it out, she might be smelling the underside of the flowers until morning. Instead, she nodded and was about to get back to work when Miranda suddenly jumped up from her chair, announcing that it was time to go home as it was almost one o'clock.

Miranda didn't drive her home that day.

"Fuck you, dickhead! How about I'm gonna fuck your mo-"

Andy loved New York, especially the subway.

There was always something going on the subway, which was no news to anyone who had lived here for more than a month and used it every day. It doesn't matter which line, no matter what the destination was. A brawl, a music concert, someone dressed as an animal were some things that almost always happened there. Ever since Andy moved to this beautiful city, which, despite its reputation and popularity around the world, was one of the smelliest places — especially in the summer — she had witnessed many strange occurrences in the subway. Sometimes it was entire orchestras, sometimes it was a group of people, complete strangers, who started singing. Most often, however, there were arguments between people who were complete strangers before they got into one of the carriages. Andy usually moved away from such situations as much as possible, although sometimes the topic of the argument even seemed interesting to her, and she wanted to join the rest of the onlookers. This time, however, she decided to get up and go to the other end of the carriage.

But before she got up from her seat, she pulled out her phone in a sudden wave of inspiration and wrote a quick text to Emily;

'Andy: If I'm late, it means I'm dead on line 'F'.'

She smiled to herself and sent it.

Since the last rescue operation called 'Lagerfeld the Impossible' by Andy, her relationship with Emily has undergone major changes. Well, not that major, but considering she was dealing with a tense British woman who until now had been unable to look at her without gagging, the improvement was definitely visible.

Emily appreciated Andy in a way. She stopped bombarding her with malicious comments that were intended to incite — now she only used those that were said in jest, or at least that's what Andy wanted to believe. Nevertheless, she was convinced that things were much better between them. They exchanged text messages from time to time that were not related to work, and while it couldn't be called friendship, their relationship had definitely changed to a bearable one.

'Em: What the hell are you talking about?'

Emily replied in the blink of an eye, and Andy could easily imagine the redhead's exasperated sigh. She smirked and put her phone in her purse, grabbing onto the railing on her left to get up and get as far away from the commotion as possible. She stood up and squeezed through a few people, and would have kept going if something red hadn't flashed before her eyes. Following her instincts, she turned around and couldn't believe her eyes when she saw one of Miranda's daughters sitting in one of the chairs, nodding off. For a moment she thought that maybe she was imagining it, but after looking at it for a while she came to the conclusion that it was definitely one of them.

"Excuse me." She mumbled and ignored more curses sent her way as she bumped a guy and started walking towards the thirteen-year-old.

She was a few steps away, in fact there was only one more passenger between them, and she could stand right in front of the redhead when she saw the guy sitting next to her had his hand on the girl's knee. Andy saw red and this time, ignoring the fact that she had definitely knocked someone off balance, she ran as fast as she could and slammed the pervert's hand with all her might, who jumped back as if paralysed. The twin woke up suddenly and started looking around until her eyes finally fell on Andy, who was looking down at her with disbelief, horror, and rage. After a few seconds the recognition light up on her face. Acting instinctively, Andy grabbed the girl by the elbow and pulled her towards the door, which opened after a few seconds, because at that moment they had arrived at one of the stations.

"Let me go!" The twin whined, trying to struggle away, but the last thing Andy was going to do was let her get away. Not when she had just witnessed such a situation.

As soon as they were out and far enough away from being rammed by the others who were rushing to work so early, Andy released her from her tight embrace and placed both hands on her hips as she scanned her with her eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"None of your business." She spat and wanted to take a step to the side, but Andy wouldn't let her. She wouldn't forgive herself if she let Miranda's daughter go at a time like this, especially since she knew full well she was supposed to be at school in a matter of hour, but instead she was taking the subway, and from a side of town Andy was sure Miranda would never let her go alone.

"Oh yes, it is." Andy hissed, trying to ignore the alarm ringing in her head that despite the whole situation, it was Miranda's daughter she was talking to. If her boss found out about this, she would be lucky to find a job at a hot dog stand. "If you don't want me to call your mother in this second, we're gonna talk, Caroline."

She hoped she guessed.

"It's Cassidy." The girl mumbled in a bored tone.

She didn't.

"Okay, come on, hungry?" She asked more calmly, and when Cassidy gave her a nervous look that had a loud note of distrust in it, she added a small smile.

Ten minutes later they were sitting in one of the cafés and Andy watched as Cassidy stuffed herself with her third pancake. She looked terrible. Traces of the makeup she must have worn the previous day were still smudged across her young face. The black T-shirt with thin shoulders was wrinkled, and the burgundy skirt was so short that Miranda certainly had no idea what it was.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?" Andy finally asked, unable to wait any longer.

She didn't know how she should actually start this conversation, but whether she wanted to or not, she knew she should. Well, really, she should have called Miranda right away and told her everything, but she wanted to help the girl first, and she guessed that upsetting her mother, who would surely have arrived very quickly, wouldn't do anything good. Plus she was still upset with Miranda after their conversation yesterday; this woman had a knack for making things worse, no matter who she was dealing with. Yes, she knew she would have to inform her about everything, she had no intention of hiding something like that, especially since what had happened was so serious that Cassidy's mother should know about it. Nevertheless, she decided that she would talk to her first, or at least try, because so far she had met the twins maybe a few times and had never heard even a simple 'hello' from them.

Cassidy swallowed another bite of her pancake and rolled her eyes. Andy used a look she had learned from her mother, and it must have worked, because her twin quickly looked at her apologetically, even if it was only for a moment.

"Nothing did, though."

"Because I was there." Andy sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands, ignoring the fact that she was wearing makeup and had most likely smeared it. "Cass, what were you doing in this part of town at this hour? It's not even 7am yet.

"I was going to school." She shrugged and looked back down at her plate, this time just shifting the food around. "You're making me late."

Andy snorted humourlessly and leaned against the back of the couch in the booth they were sitting at, crossing her arms over her chest. She shook her head, biting her lower lip, and knew she looked impatient.

"What is it, Cass, huh? You can talk to me." She finally spoke, leaning over the table again, hoping that a change of tactics would help her a little.

The truth was that she had no idea how to talk to the twins. Their last two real interactions had been so mediocre that she didn't even think they fell into the category of any kind of interaction, trully. The first was their little prank that led to Andy almost befriending J.K. Rowling herself, and the second was the twins' birthday, which she had to organize for them and exchanged a few words about what exactly they expected. She wouldn't exactly call it a close relationship.

"I don't want to." Cassidy replied and took a sip of orange juice, which she had refused to touch five minutes ago, saying she didn't like it. "I don't know you."

Andy licked her upper lip with the tip of her tongue and placed both hands on the table, moving the white napkin around for a moment until she finally left it alone and focused her gaze on Cassidy, who must have sensed the change in the atmosphere because she put her juice down and continued to make eye contact. Andy ignored the cold shivers as the blue eyes stared at her so intently — they were too familiar for her taste.

"Cass, help me out here, okay?" She started slowly, hoping that she would somehow get through to this girl. She had already forgotten what it was like to be fifteen and the truth was that she couldn't talk to her at all. "If I hadn't noticed you there, something terrible could have happened. I didn't write or call your mother because I want to help you somehow. Talk to me and we'll figure something out. Believe me, I'm here on your side. "

"So what, you won't snitch to momma on me?" Andy swallowed the small smile that tried to creep onto her lips after hearing the way Miranda's daughters addressed her — she had never heard it before.

"I'll have to tell her and you know it." She decided to play her cards open, because if she expected Cassidy to be honest, she had to adapt to that as well.

Cassidy snorted and straightened, reaching for her phone in her pocket. Andy instinctively, imitating her own mother's actions, reached for the phone and put it on her side, ignoring the irritated 'hey!'.

"She's going to get mad at me either way, so we might as well just skip this conversation."

Charming.

"Cass, please, I want to help." She assured, and decided to ignore the teenager's unpleasant tone, she reached her hand out in front of her, wanting to grab Cassidy, but held back, thinking she wouldn't like it. "I was nervous and scared, I, let alone Miranda. It's your mom, she's worried about yo-"

"She doesn't give a shit, Emily, you know that. I thought we were supposed to be honest." Cassidy hissed, pain flashing in her eyes, and Andy swallowed hard, not sure how to respond.

She didn't mean to speak ill of Miranda. What kind of mother she was, was none of her business, and Andy's opinion was buried deep in the recesses of her mind, never to see the light of day. It was none of her business how her boss raised her children or how much time she devoted to them. What was happening at their house was private and Andy had no intention of getting involved. Despite this, she already admitted to herself that in some strange way she liked Miranda and would not want any harm to come to one of her daughters.

"I'm Andy." She corrected with a gentle smile, showing an incredible amount of patience. "Don't say that, she cares more than you think."

So much for not talking about Miranda.

Cassidy rolled her eyes; "Please, all she cares about is her job." She shrugged, and it was only then that Andy noticed how much Cass was playing to her and pretending how unfazed she was by it all, because tears welled up in her eyes, but she managed to quickly chase them away. Probably if it weren't for months of training on Miranda, Andy wouldn't have even noticed. "Whatever, I don't care. Can I go now? I have to go to school."

Andy sighed heavily and nodded twice. Cassidy suddenly stood up from her seat and moved towards the exit, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder and looked down at Andy, nervous.

"What?"

"Your phone." Andy handed her the device and gave her a crooked smile and handed her a small piece of paper. "And this is my phone number, if you need anything, call me. Roy is waiting outside."

Cassidy looked at her strangely, and Andy was sure for a moment that the card with her number would be torn up before her eyes, but the girl rolled her eyes and stuffed it into her bra with a loud sigh, and when she finally left, she got into the car waiting for her. Andy was relieved that Roy read her message quickly enough to arrive just after dropping Miranda off at Runway.

She took a few bills out of her wallet and left them on the table as she walked towards 1221 Sixth Avenue. As soon as the door slammed behind her and the bell rang, her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out quickly;

'Em: Are you dead yet? You better not be, she breathes fire today, and you're not allowed to leave me on my own.'

'Andy: I'm on my way, gimme 10 min.'

'Em: Hurry up, for God's sake!'

Andy smirked at her phone and walked briskly to work, ignoring the strange feeling in her stomach. If Nate found out how much she was starting to interfere in Miranda's life, she would be done for. But what else was she supposed to do? She would never forgive herself if she left Cassidy on that subway and thanked whatever was watching over her for noticing the kid, considering how crowded it was.

She felt like shooting herself in the head. Once again she put herself in an extremely uncomfortable situation, and the worst was yet to come. She would have to inform Miranda about this, there was no other option. If it was her daughter who found herself in such a situation, she would want to know — there was no point in even discussing it. Despite this, she was terrified by the idea of ​​becoming a messenger, they were the ones who lost their heads when they brought bad news. And yet, despite how she usually wanted to avoid this type of situation, wanting to keep those lines between private life and work thick and distinct (she failed miserably a long time ago), she couldn't shake the feeling of worry and concern for Cassidy. In a sense, she hoped that the girl would text her and at least tell her that everything was fine. It wasn't fine, of course, and it didn't look like it would get any better for a while, but Andy decided to let herself dream a little.

She stood at 129 E 73th Street and was unable to move. She told herself she had no idea why she was so suddenly stressed, but the truth was that she hadn't brought herself to talk to Miranda all day. There was confusion throughout the office because the Chanel clothes arrived two hours late. The phones seemed to be ringing constantly, and Miranda herself was furious from the moment she finally got her coffee from the late Andy until the very end when she left without a word much earlier than normal, clearly having no intention of repeating their previous work session.

Andy pretended not to care.

She had to postpone telling Miranda about what she and Cassidy had experienced that morning, there was no other option. But now it was 'later' and Andy didn't feel any more ready than she had a dozen or so hours earlier. When she thought about it, she felt even less ready, because when she stood with the Book in her hands, at the door of Miranda's house, she realized that she had unconsciously given up on neutral ground. Here, in the comfort of her own home, it would be much easier to kill Andy than if Miranda had to do it within the four walls of her office. Everything there was glass and bright and transparent. People were still milling about, most likely they would have heard Andy's pleas for mercy as the first torture began, and you also have to take into account that...

Anyway, Andy shook her head and, saying the same prayer for the third time, took her keys from her purse and went to the door, turning the lock.

As soon as she entered, she had a feeling that something was wrong. Maybe it was because of the stress that was eating her up from the inside, or maybe she was already too deep into all the worst-case scenarios that had been playing in her head all day about how this conversation might go. She didn't expect Cassidy to admit what she had done and where she had been. She did a lot of stupid things herself at that age, which her mother found out about either by accident or from Jill. Andy wished she could blame her — Cassidy — a little for it. She wished she could expect such an attitude from her, but she wasn't stupid, and she guessed that she would have the honour of informing Miranda about her daughter's actions after all.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could and took a few steps forward, climbing two steps and standing on the wooden parquet floor, when the first words came to her from inside the house.

"... is ridiculous!" It was definitely Miranda's voice. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack, young lady?"

Andy grimaced and bit her lower lip - it looked like Miranda already knew, the only question was from whom.

"Mira, calm down, nothing happened..." It had to be Stephen, and Andy frowned, freezing in place, because honestly, that was one of the worse things he could have said at that moment.

"Don't interfere!" Miranda growled and Andy really admired her that the woman, despite her aggressive tone, did not raise her voice, if she were in her place she would probably scream like crazy. "Where have you been all night? What were you doing in Lower Manhattan?"

"Jesus, mom! Can you calm down? I'm okay!" Cassidy screamed, followed by several loud stomps.

Andy swallowed thickly as she realized that this whole family situation, which she definitely shouldn't have witnessed, was taking place much closer to her than she would have liked.

"Come back here right now, Cassidy Priestly, I'm not finished." Miranda said in a hard tone that, to Andy's surprise, was still not as scary as the one she had witnessed at work. "You're going to tell me where you were, what you were doing and why, that's not up for debate." Was added in a much calmer tone.

"It's all Caro!" Cassidy whined, then most likely turned to her sister. "You had to vent, right? You couldn't shut up?! What's your problem?"

"Piss off! I was scared! You told me that you would only be gone for a while, not all night, what was I supposed to do?"

"Don't spill to mom, for example!"

"Enough!" Miranda snapped and there was silence between the two twins.

Andy breathed heavily, feeling the discomfort and enormous guilt of standing still and listening to the family quarrel wrap around her on all sides, almost cutting off her oxygen supply. Very slowly, so as not to make a single sound, she backed up to the door when she remembered that she still had the Book in her hands, as well as the laundry, and she couldn't take it home.

"Mira, you're overreacting." Andy rolled her eyes despite herself, because, really... "She's fine, she's a teenager it's normal."

The silence that followed was so heavy that Andy briefly considered whether it would be better to store Miranda's laundry in her own closet and edit the Book herself. She had plenty of red pens at home.

"See? Even Stephen's-"

"Go to your rooms, immediately." Miranda hissed. "Go!" She added when none of her daughters hadn't moved an inch, Andy could tell from the silence between her boss's cold words.

Finally, a rustle could be heard and Andy took two steps to the left in panic, knowing that from this position she wouldn't be seen by the twins.

"Fine! Whatever! It's always like that with you!" Cassidy shouted, then added something that almost made Andy faint; "I don't ever wanna talk to you, even Andy was nicer about it than my own mother!"

Two pairs of feet then began to stomp loudly and Andy knew exactly when both girls were in their rooms because the door slammed so loudly that she was shocked that the plaster hadn't fallen off the walls.

The silence lasted long enough that Andy wasn't sure if she could come out of her hiding place or not. Should she go in and do what she had to do, or turn on her heel and run away? She was breathing deeply, she was terrified and wanted to disappear into thin air. She felt terrible that she had stayed and heard all this, but at the same time grateful that that was all and not the whole argument.

"Mira..." Stephen finally spoke, resulting in a strange sound that almost sounded as if Miranda had slapped his hand away with her own.

"Don't call me that."

"Mira, come on, she's just a kid, you need to calm do-"

"You are the last person to tell me what I need or do not need to do, Stephen." Miranda spat and then there were more footsteps and more rustling. "Don't dare to touch me right now!"

Andy swallowed hard and didn't hold back the sudden anger that began to bubble within her. She walked back to the front door and grabbed the handle, opening it slightly, knowing that she had no intention of leaving Miranda alone now, even if it was currently synonymous with a suicide mission.

"Great, be on your own, why did you even marry me if you want to be alone all the time, huh?" Stephen almost screamed and started walking towards the hall. That was the moment when Andy purposely slammed the door louder and, as naturally as she could, turned to look at Miranda's husband, who looked at her up and down and smiled cheekily. "Your pet is here!" He shouted and went upstairs without saying anything else.

Now or never, Andy thought and quickly hung up the laundry and put the Book on the dresser. At that moment, Miranda appeared in the doorway to the smaller living room where she and Andy had last spoken when they learned about the data loss. Andy looked at her, breathing heavily, hoping very much that she wasn't showing how guilty she felt at that moment. She stood there waiting for any verdict and with every second that passed like long hours, she felt like she was about to sink into the ground. Miranda's gaze was withering, making her feel like a little girl — completely lost.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Miranda moved forward, standing right in front of Andy, and without taking her eyes off her, she reached for the Book and tilted her head up a little, her jaw jutting forward slightly. She swayed barely visibly and Andy's first instinct was to grab her, but she didn't realize how frozen in time and place she was as she tried to move and couldn't. Miranda, however, finally turned on her heel, leaning slightly on the dresser, but she did not send Andy home, so Andy, listening to her intuition, decided to follow her, guessing that they were going to have a serious conversation.

Miranda sat her down in the same seat as before, although this time she didn't pay attention to her shoes, most likely being in too emotional a state to worry about such things. Patty, as if sensing that someone new had arrived in her house, ambled cheerfully and settled back on Andy's legs. Miranda still didn't say a word, instead moving to the bar and pulling out two glasses, pouring whiskey into both. Andy couldn't see exactly what kind it was from where she was standing, but she was sure it was one of the ones that would cost her at least two pay checks. She ignored the urge to say she didn't like whiskey, because honestly, at that moment she was afraid to even take a deep breath. Miranda placed the glass in front of her and sat down on the other side of the couch, crossing her legs and taking a long sip.

"Drink." She said and watched carefully as Andy hesitantly reached for the glass of alcohol and slowly brought it to her lips — the smell already burning her nose. She glanced quickly at Miranda again and took a small sip. "Drink."

This time she drank it all at once and, grimacing, she set the glass down on the table in front of her with a light clatter. Miranda looked at her for a long time, as if she were having her own conversation in her head that Andy had no access to. Fair, Andy thought, looking at how much she had already invaded this woman's privacy.

"Tell me, Andrea," Miranda began, finally taking her eyes off Andy and slowly turning the now empty glass in her hands. "Tell me how is it, that every time something happens, you're involved?" Andy opened her mouth to respond, but stopped herself, sensing that this wasn't the end. "Tell me, how is it that when my daughter lands in Lower Manhattan in the middle of the night, you know about it before me? I'm guessing you even talked to her about it, and yet, for some reason, I found out about it, but not from you, instead I get a call first thing in the morning, when I'm already at work, from Cara, who tells me that my child is missing. Do you have any idea what I felt at that moment? Fortunately, during this conversation, Cassidy came in... back home, so at least I knew by the end of the day that she was fine."

Oh, she was fucked. She was so fucked.

She finally dared to take a deeper breath, which gave her much less relief than she would have liked, but at least she knew she was able to continue breathing. Andy couldn't take her eyes off Miranda, whose eyes were burning holes into her.

"I-"

"I'm not finished." Miranda interrupted her almost immediately, and the tone of her voice seemed to cool the temperature of the room by a few degrees. "When I was checking my phone, I saw a message from Caroline that I must have missed earlier. Do you know what she wrote to me?" Andy didn't even dare shake her head, instead watching steadily as Miranda reached for the phone that lay on her thighs, probably looking for a specific message. "'Momma, please don't be mad at me, I didn't know how to tell you before, but I'm getting ready for school and Cass is still not home. She left to see someone at night and told me not to snitch but now I'm scared, she's not answering.'” She closed her phone with a loud snap and threw it on the couch, and it bounced a few times until it finally landed right next to Andy. "So again, tell me, Andrea. What. Happened."

At that moment, Andy swore that she would never help anyone again, even though she knew she was lying to herself. If this whole day had to happen again, she definitely would have told Miranda sooner. However, she couldn't change the past, so she only had to deal with the consequences of how she decided to play it all.

In a sudden burst of courage that could have been due to adrenaline as well as alcohol, she suddenly got up from the couch and walked to the bar on her own, reaching for the same whiskey Miranda had poured them earlier. She didn't hear a word of objection, so without even looking into the woman's eyes, she poured a healthy portion for her and herself and drank it all again in one gulp. Only then did she sit back in her seat and turn fully to Miranda, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow and only a slightly softer gaze.

She described the entire situation to her in detail, although she decided to spare Miranda the one of the subway pervert. Despite how bad it was and how it might actually affect Cassidy, if she was aware of what was on his mind, she wasn't going to mention it. In the end, she prevented it from happening, so there was no need for the woman to go through the whole situation any more than she already was. Miranda, to her credit, didn't interrupt once, and Andy was relieved to see her eyes soften as she explained. As if hearing a detailed description of the whole situation calmed her down.

"How much did you hear?" She asked suddenly, obviously satisfied with Andy's explanation.

"How much of what have I heard?" Andy asked stupidly because the last thing she wanted was to make Miranda even more uncomfortable.

"Don't play dumb, with me, Andrea. I know that you must have heard, I'm asking how much." Miranda replied sharply, although it didn't have the same impact as the previous glare as she now sat in a much more relaxed position; with one leg bent under.

"O-o-only the very end." She admitted and decided to ignore the slight buzzing in her head that was probably caused by the alcohol. She looked up at Miranda quickly and gave her an apologetic look. "I swear, only the end and nothing else."

Miranda nodded and sighed, finishing what she had in her glass. Andy reached for the bottle to refill it, but her hand was gently slapped away. Maybe it was a good decision, because she already felt that her world was starting to spin a little, but fortunately not enough to embarrass herself.

"Now, you will promise me something." Miranda said and looked at her appraisingly, as if still calculating whether Andy was in any way trustworthy.

"Of course, anything."

"Anything you witness in the future that involves my daughters in any way, you will tell me right away. Regardless of whether you have any funny belief that you don't want to upset me."

"Y-yes, Miranda, absolutely, I-I-I'm really sorry for how I behaved, I should've-"

"Yes, yes, you should have." Miranda cut in and raised her hand slightly, dismissing it.

Andy nodded and was somewhat relieved that despite the fury she had heard in Miranda's voice earlier, this whole conversation had gone much better than she had expected. Meaning; she felt like crap. She felt scolded and humiliated, and she knew she absolutely deserved it because she hadn't played it one bit right. She was terrified herself when she saw Cassidy on the subway, so she couldn't imagine Miranda's fear when she got such a call from her daughters' babysitter. Andy well remembered the fear on her mother's face when, at the age of fourteen, she decided to go to a party with the older kids and came home drunk in the morning. Her mother's look and tone was something she would remember for the rest of her life; since then she has never done anything this stupid.

"Mira?"

Stephen shouted from somewhere up the house and Andy first looked in that direction and then at Miranda, who, probably due to the alcohol, couldn't control her facial expressions that much and rolled her eyes and looked pained at Andy, who in return smiled reassuringly and stood up slowly.

"I'll better go." She whispered and quickly put both glasses down in the kitchen sink, which was right next to their room.

Miranda followed her, most likely to see her off.

"Mira!"

"Jesus Christ, I do not have the energy for this." She mumbled and Andy gave another of her reassuring smiles, and they both headed out.

She opened the door, but turned around and looked at Miranda with what she hoped was sympathy on her face.

"I'm really sorry, Miranda." She began slowly, her hand gripping the doorknob pulsing in a reassuring gesture. "I did talk with her for a minute, and she's really great, but there is something going on. I gave her my number if she ever wanted to talk with somebody." She confessed and waited for Miranda's reaction, who looked at her for a moment as if she didn't know how she should react.

Andy also had no idea whether her gesture, which she then considered friendly and necessary, was in the right tone, but after today's conversation she decided to admit everything.

Miranda finally grabbed the other side of the door and nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Andrea."

The door slammed shut at that moment, and Andy walked towards the subway with a shy smile, hoping the wind wouldn't blow her into the bushes.

"So what now, you're gonna be her daughters' therapist?"

Andy groaned and leaned back far enough that she was now almost lying on the couch.

"Of only one." She laughed humourlessly. "What am I doing, Douggie? Why did I find myself in the middle of this mess? As if my life didn't revolve around Miranda enough, I also had to add her daughters to the mix.

"Oh please..." Doug chuckled and sat down next to her on the couch, pushing her legs down and ignoring her grunt. "If you didn't like it that way, you wouldn't get involved in the first place."

She stared at the ceiling with a confused expression. She managed to get home much faster that day because Miranda told Emily to bring the Book. Andy was in the middle of convincing herself that she wasn't sulking because of that, but she was failing miserably. Emily, of course, didn't spare her irritated glances, but she didn't care because she knew that deep down the British girl was happy with this turn of events. Regardless of whether they were finally getting along or not, Emily was still fighting to secure her place in Miranda's heart, ignoring all the signs in the sky that told her that it was impossible.

She decided that Miranda needed a break from her after their last conversation, and that was something she could understand.

Instead of staying at home, Andy decided to come to Doug's. She didn't plan on talking about recent events, in fact she was much more curious about what was going on with him, but he asked and somehow she couldn't stop talking.

"But the point is that I don't want to be involved in this. It just happened! I couldn't not help her!"

"Of course you couldn't." Doug burst out laughing and munched on a handful of popcorn.

"Hey!" Andy stood up and lightly hit him with the pillow before sitting back, reaching for the snack as well. "I'm just saying-" She started to say between bites. "No matter what I do, somehow Miranda always drags me into her private affairs, whether consciously or not, it doesn't matter. You know what matters? The fact that I get kicked for it later, and it wasn't even me who made the decision."

"Andy, you fucked up by not telling her right away, don't blame her for being pissed. You overheard the rest and see?, she didn't have a problem with it." He shrugged and reached for the remote control to find a movie that was about to start playing on one of the programs.

"Exactly, and why is that, hmm?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why didn't she have a problem with it? It was very private and I witnessed it and for some reason I wasn't sent to Siberia. Try to figure that out, smarty pants." She snorted and this time shoved a much larger handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Doug looked at her for a moment, interrupting his search for the right channel.

"You're so smart, Andy, and yet you can be so stupid." He shook his head. "She likes you, so she doesn't mind as much."

Andy looked at him like he was an idiot until she finally laughed. She had probably guessed this before, but receiving verbal confirmation from an outsider was something completely different.

"Why would she?" She asked and only then did she feel how much she really wanted to know the answer to this question.

It wasn't like she belonged to Miranda's circle. They had nothing in common, they were almost twenty years apart in age, and the only thing Andy had achieved so far was perfecting how to order coffee for this woman. She had absolutely nothing to offer to even make Miranda want to look at her as another human being, let alone someone worth talking to.

"Why wouldn't she?" Doug countered. "Come on, Andy. She's been talking to you normally for some time now, she doesn't treat you like you're an ant under her shoe. In a sense, she let you near one of her daughters. This woman trusts you with her life, not only public, but also private. You've transferred the concept of 'personal' assistant' to the next level, congratulations."

"Well it's my job to-"

"Andy, we've been on it for the last thirty minutes and I haven't heard the word 'Runway' once, only Miranda this, Miranda that..."

"Because Miranda is my job!" She was starting to get frustrated that even Doug couldn't understand her point of view.

He didn't know Miranda personally, he had no idea what she was like at work and how she talked to Andy in the privacy of her own home. Trying to convince her to do such absurd things was starting to get unbearable. That Miranda might have even a modicum of sympathy for her was something she could believe, but everything else?

"Your job is to assist the editor-in-chief of Runway magazine, not Miranda Priestly, a woman with two children and a terrible husband."

Andy rolled her eyes at him;

"The line between those two positions was blurry before I even started working there, just so you know." She explained and nudged him lightly when he gave her one of those annoying smiles that told her he was just making fun of her. "And the husband really is horrible. He doesn't deserve her."

"And you do?" Doug asked suddenly, and Andy was so shocked that he even dared that she turned red in the face and decided not to even comment on it.

"You better look for that movie, because you're already annoying me."

Chapter Text

Andy was exhausted, her eyelids were getting heavy, and she hand no control over it. She was very lucky that someone stepped on her foot on the subway, otherwise she would have continued on instead of getting off at her station. She barely made it home; she dragged her legs all the way to the door, and even when there was only a thin wall separating her from the shower and bed of her dreams, it took her much longer than usual to get her keys out.

It was already Thursday, the 27th to be precise. This, of course, meant that not only did they have to tighten their belts to finish the issue, but she and Emily were also responsible for the preparations for the Met Gala. They've been working on it wor a while now, but just in a day or two they will have to actually set everything up. It's not that Andy wasn't even a little excited about this endeavour, because she had heard about it long before she started working for Miranda, but she never expected that her first real introduction to the event would be... not fancy at all. She did her research, of course, and watched one or two galas from previous years to understand what exactly it was about, and she came to one conclusion — almost no one understood the themes. She felt a bit as if this whole session, all this time she had spent on it, had been wasted to some extent, really... how many men could there be seen wearing the same black, boring suits?

She shook her head and almost lost her balance as she bent down to take off both of her shoes one by one. That day she didn't even have the energy to take a shower, but she forced herself to do it, knowing that she would regret her decision in the morning if she wouldn't. She threw her purse on the couch, still with Nigel's threats in her mind, regarding the good treatment of her clothes and accessories.

She could hear through the open bedroom door that Nate was already fast asleep, snoring lightly as he usually did, so undoing the buttons of her aquamarine blouse, she headed to the bathroom, grabbing the first old T-shirt from the hem to have something to wear to sleep. She folded all her clothes neatly and stood naked in front of the mirror to remove her makeup. Andy grimaced at her own reflection when, from under the layer of foundation, that she was removing with longitudinal movements with a cotton pad, she began to notice how the dark circles were under her eyes. She should have washed her hair too, but as soon as this thought crossed her mind, she gave up on it, deciding that tomorrow she would just tie those hair up in a high, neat bun and only freshen up the bangs.

She stepped into the shower, waking up a bit under the jets of cool water, and quickly set the temperature to go through her routine.

Andy emerged from the bathroom after just a few minutes, knowing that she couldn't afford to take a longer shower if she wanted to get as much sleep as possible. It was already a little after midnight and the first alarm clock started ringing at 5am. She glanced quickly at the fridge, but shook her head and decided not to make herself anything to eat. She was counting on Nate leaving something for her because she had texted him earlier to let him know that she would be home late. He didn't answer, so she didn't bother to look. Instead she headed towards the bedroom when the phone buzzed in the distance. She sighed and turned back and took her phone out of her purse, grateful that someone had remembered of her at such an hour — she preferred to always have her phone with her in case she needed to answer, and she was in the middle of sleep. There was one message that gleamed as unread;

'Unknown: she won't talk to me'

Andy frowned and rubbed her eyes, not understanding what exactly was written on the small screen. She sat down on the couch and yawned mightily, trying to focus on the message again.

'Andy: Cassidy?'

She sent it hesitantly because that was the only person she could think of. After spending so much time at Runway, Andy believed she had the numbers of most of New York's population saved, and there were at least twenty numbers from Europe, Asia, and Australia. She recently gave her number to one of the twins and hoped that the girl would contact her, although she was counting on for a slightly better time.

'Unknown: duh'

Andy snorted and quickly saved her number, sitting more comfortably on the couch, guessing, that since Cassidy finally decided to talk to her, this conversation would be one of the longer ones.

'Andy: So, what happened?'

'Cass: nothing thats the problem'

'Cass: mom is really mad'

She wasn't surprised. From what she had heard, she could only guess what the earlier part of the argument had been like. Andy wondered for a while how Cara — girls' nanny — hadn't noticed that she was missing one of the twins, because she had to be home with them until Miranda got home from work, and Andy remembered well that they both had stayed up until almost 1am that night in the office, working together.

Apparently, Miranda also didn't look into her daughters' rooms when she returned home.

Andy pushed the thought out of her head, remembering the promise she had made to herself; not to interfere with her boss's parenting methods, because it was none of her business. Yet, here she was — talking with one of the twins.

'Andy: Are you surprised?'

'Cass: no, I guess'

'Cass: still id like to talk with her about it and explain some things'

'Andy: Is she avoiding you?'

'Cass: ...'

'Cass: in a way'

Andy wiped her face with both hands once again, putting the phone aside for a moment. Writing with teenagers was definitely not her forte.

'Andy: What way?'

'Cass: she's coming home later than before'

'Cass: and like i get it she has work to do but seriously'

'Cass: im way past the point of needing her every single day but itd still be nice to at least exchange like two sentences once in a couple of days'

She felt sick after reading the last message. So far, she had managed to organize Miranda's schedule so that she could return home to her children at a reasonable hour. Due to all the problems this month's issue had been having lately, Miranda was needed at the office, and it coincided with the damn Met Gala, which required just as much work, if not more.

Andy decided that she and Emily would take on some more responsibilities. Somehow she would force the British woman to do a few more tasks. She was sure that all she had to do was say 'Miranda said...' and the matter would be sorted out. Work is work, but Andy felt her heart break at the thought of what her boss's daughters had to endure.

'Andy: Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.'

How she would go about it — Andy had no idea.

It's not like she could walk up to Miranda and say, 'Hey, why don't you have three to four conversations a week with your daughters?'. Please… Andy felt her face contort as she thought about what Miranda's reaction would be to something like that. Fortunately, she will never find out, because the last thing she wanted lately was to end her life before she was even thirty. She still had a lot of life ahead of her, thank you very much. It's true that it didn't look particularly bright so far, but Andy was a woman of hope and a positive attitude, convinced of a better tomorrow.

So what if she spent her best years at work, her friends moved away, and her boyfriend wasn't happy with her?

Andy decided to quickly change the course of her thoughts because she was in a relatively good mood even though she was completely sleep deprived. She and Cassidy talked for almost two hours at night, which meant that today she would have to function on less than two hours of sleep. It wouldn't be the first time, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Pull yourself together, for crying out loud!" Emily hissed just above her ear, causing her to jump slightly in place and turn towards her with a scowl.

"What the hell, Em?"

"Miranda is right next to us, and you're sleeping." She explained with a tone so dripping with sarcasm that Andy could almost see it materialize. "I'm making sure that she won't see you like that. What have you been doing all night — dancing with the stars?"

Andy snorted quietly under her breath, not wanting Emily to notice that she had managed to make her laugh even a little. She straightened up and blinked her eyes wide open a few times to wake up.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Obviously." Emily huffed and returned to her seat behind the desk across from Andy. She sat stiffly, her back so straight that Andy began to wonder if there was some condition opposite to scoliosis that she could attribute to the British woman, but, fortunately, she didn't have the chance to say anything stupid; "Go and get coffee for her... and yourself."

Andy wanted to protest, but decided it was a good idea after all. A quick change of environment and some exercise will do her good, and the additional caffeine will hopefully wake her up for longer. She quickly gathered her things and ignored the urge to wipe her eyes. She stood up and quickly walked towards the elevators. Andy pressed the button and took a step back, holding her purse in front of her with both hands.

"What about that number you promised?"

She smiled to herself at the familiar voice and ignored the memory of the last conversation she had with Miranda on the subject.

"I'm not sure you deserve my number. It's reserved for special people."

Tom laughed loudly and stood right next to her, not making any eye contact. They both stood facing the elevator, waiting for the doors to open on their floor.

"Where are you headed?"

"Coffee."

"Hmm."

She wasn't sure if it was because she was tired or if Miranda's words had somehow made her unable to talk to him like before. The insinuation that her relationship with Tom could even remotely resemble... an affair... was so distasteful and reprehensible to her that she felt as if she was falling into paranoia. Especially since now his tone and flirtation stood out to her much more clearly than before. As if Miranda had unlocked something in her head, and she couldn't go back to the way things were before.

"Tom, listen..." She started slowly, figuring she might as well set clear boundaries between them. She wasn't the type of woman who liked to deceive men. "You're really nice, but I have a boyfriend, I'm h-happy with him, so could we drop the flirting?"

The elevator doors slid open in front of them. They let those who were exiting through, and only then stepped inside and chose their destination floors. Tom looked at her then and watched her for a moment before finally smiling and nodding.

"You got it. Didn't know it was bothering you."

"No, it's not like that..." Why did she always feel the need to explain everything? "I just wouldn't want people to think that... everyone knows I'm in a relationship, so..."

"Do you really care that much what people think? We're friends, Andy, I'm fine with that."

Did she? She shrugged her shoulders, wanting to end the conversation, and breathed a sigh of relief when they found themselves on the floor where her friend was getting off.

"You don't sound happy, you know that, right?" He said goodbye and left, giving her one last awkward smile.

Andy felt like falling into the ground. She groaned loudly, once the doors were shut, and closed her eyes, resting her head against one of the mirror-covered walls. Why was she talking about this at all? It was definitely going to be awkward between them now, and she didn't want to lose another friend.

Lately, as the days went by, she was haunted by thoughts of Lily more and more often. She hadn't seen her for so long that she was afraid she would soon forget what her best friend even looked like. Best friend? She wasn't even sure she deserved the honour of being called that any more. Their last conversation didn't go well — it ended with a door slamming and then a sea of ​​tears mixed with alcohol. Lily accused her of changing — Nate's favourite argument — saying that it wasn't about Andy's work. But if not about work, then what else? After all, everything started to go wrong from the moment she got hired at Runway. Her friends and boyfriend were very happy with Andy's new position as she brought them many gifts that they would not normally be able to buy without going into debt. Of course, she was not materialistic and did not regret the gifts she gave. The problem here was Lily's attitude, according to Andy, because why would she be the one to have to adapt so much?

They met when they were six years old. They went to first grade together and every subsequent one. They lived a few houses away from each other and spent every moment together. Ever since she was little, Lily liked to be in control of a situation, no matter what it was. Andy never had a problem with this because she personally didn't consider herself a person with a strong leader personality. She had no problem following someone as long as they agreed on their views and shared values.

But now it had got to the point where Lily was trying to convince Andy that she was the bad guy. But why would she believe it, on what basis? She did her job to the best of her ability because that's what she was paid for. She didn't do it just because she liked babysitting Miranda, on the contrary, the woman drove her crazy. However, she was aware of what the experience of working at Runway for just one damn year would give her.

Andy moved away from the elevator's mirror as the doors opened and walked out quickly, heading towards the nearest Starbucks.

The only thing Andy could accuse herself of, and what she wouldn't admit to anyone except Doug, who was the only one who stayed with her, was that everything she explained to the other two was a load of bullshit. Not at the beginning, of course, but now she knew — she did care. Regardless of whether Miranda continued to irritate her or not, Andy found herself in a place where she had to admit to herself that she wanted to get to know the editor-in-chief. She didn't have any specific feelings for her, but after the last few days, seeing even a bit of the mystery that was this woman, made Andy want to discover more. Perhaps it was her complexion and the belief that she was somehow special, but she had enough self-confidence to live in the belief that Miranda would be able to open up to her over time. She wanted to know more about her from the moment she realised that she was more than just a public persona, the face of a fashion magazine.

The fact she already knew, that Miranda liked tea, even though the public had no idea about it, was so satisfying for Andy that she made it her mission to find at least one for Miranda that was good enough for her to drink it too here, not just when in London.

She walked into Starbucks and stood in line, deciding that nothing bad would happen if she didn't cut in this time. She waved to Monica, who noticed her as she entered and gave her a friendly smile. She pulled out her phone and dialled a number;

"Hello?"

"Hi, mom." She started slowly, unable to believe that she had finally gathered the courage to call — but it was for the greater good.

"Andy, honey, hello! How are you? Is everything all right? You're not hurt, are you?" Her mother bombarded her with questions and Andy, despite rolling her eyes, couldn't help but smile a little. It was nice to hear so much concern in someone's voice addressed to her.

"Relax, mom, I'm fine. I even had a normal breakfast today, can you believe that?" She chuckled, hoping that her mom wouldn't sense that her daughter was lying. The truth was that she hadn't eaten anything since that damn omelette, which was a few days ago.

"Finally, my God, you must be so skinny by now." Andy swallowed hard and decided not to take it personally, knowing that her mother didn't want to bring up her previous weight. Just a bad choice of words. "What happened that you finally remembered your parents and called?"

"I missed you." She replied cheerfully, her voice shaking just a little. "And I wanted to ask about your tea."

"My tea? You mean the herbal one?"

Andy rolled her eyes and took three steps forward as the line finally moved slightly.

"That's the one. Could you send me some?"

"Of course, but let me check how much I have... Oh, I almost forgot! Your father and I talked recently about the journalism in America, and can you believe that..."

Andy sighed heavily and mentally prepared herself to listen to a long monologue. She bit her lip, holding back a smile as she thought of Lily's words:

'You do so much for Miranda, Andy, it's almost concerning, what has she ever done for you?'

Well, Andy thought, she'll drink the tea.

"Where are we with Charlize Theron?" Miranda asked, suddenly standing up from behind her desk and putting down her pen.

Andy stood at the whiteboard that had been marring Miranda's office for over a month. At the sound of her voice, she turned around for a moment and waited for the woman to take a few steps and finally stand next to her to show her the exact seating of the guests.

"Charlize goes here." She pointed at one of the middle tables.

"Does she bring anyone?" Miranda asked and reached for the board herself, unfastening one of the names of the invited people and switching seats with someone else.

"She hasn't announced anything, but I found out from John Galliano's assistant that he will most likely accompany her." Andy provided a quick answer and Miranda nodded slowly with a quiet 'huh'.

It was true that she was doing it for the first time, but she was already looking forward to the fact that she would never have to do it again. The list of names of invited celebrities has been known since December, and over a month ago the guests should have been precisely seated. She shouldn't have been working on it alone with Miranda so shortly before the event, but as usual, a few people resigned and others took their place. In addition, many of them sent word that they would need additional seats for the people they brought with them.

Andy was shocked that Miranda hadn't gone crazy yet.

Normally, all this would be handled by Eaddy, who Andy has been very pleasant to work with so far. The woman was nice, had a beautiful smile, a funny laugh, and eyes that looked like they might fall out when she was nervous. Eaddy was a planner by trade and had been helping Runway organize the Met Gala for several years, but much to Miranda's disappointment, the woman had decided to get married a week before the first Monday of May, so now she was on a Greek island instead of her office. Miranda, of course, hired someone else, but since she only got along with Eaddy, she did many of the corrections herself;

Meaning: Andy and Emily were doing it.

"Why is Jennifer here?"

Miranda touched her fingers more delicately to one of the pins. Her other hand was placed on her hip and her weight was tilted to one side. She swayed the shoe on her left foot slightly. Andy had noticed a while ago that whenever Miranda was tense, she needed to move in some way, even though she usually controlled it around people. However, lately, when they were alone, Andy had noticed a lot more gestures and habits that no one normally knew about.

She was pleased that Miranda was able to be relaxed enough around her that she had no problem showing this side of herself.

"Because Cris is sitting here, and that's the only place we can squeeze him in, because he has two other ex-girlfriends besides Jennifer, that are invited." Andy explained hurriedly and pointed to the next two names.

Miranda sighed heavily and used her hand to smooth out a lock of hair that had persistently fallen into her eyes that day. Overall, Andy thought her boss's hairstyle today was one of her best. Of course, she liked her hair when it was sprayed with hairspray and a little more slicked. This was usually how Miranda arranged them for work. Today, however, her hair seemed to be in two waves, flowing down to one side of her face. They looked like there wasn't an ounce of hairspray or any other product that always made them look sharper. Now they looked soft, even fluffy. A bit as if Miranda had just got out of bed and hadn't had time to comb her hair properly, only brushing her hair twice.

Andy blushed at this point because of the direction her thoughts were taking and cleared her throat unintentionally, drawing attention to herself. Miranda looked at her and frowned slightly, but, thank God, she didn't comment, although she certainly saw Andy's hot cheeks.

"What about Sarah, then? She will come with her husband, and we don't have more chairs at this table."

Andy looked at the boards, trying hard to ignore her previous train of thought and frowned. She looked down at her notes again and flipped through the two pages, knowing that somewhere here was the answer to Miranda's question.

"Oh!" She said suddenly as she managed to find the information she needed. "Natasha is not coming. She called yesterday with prejudice."

"Ah, that's new." Miranda muttered, and Andy guessed that most of these surly celebrities hadn't given any notice of their possible absence.

How the hell did Miranda put up with it every year?

"I have Patrick!" Emily's voice came and Miranda walked over to her desk and answered the phone, sitting in her chair.

Andy meanwhile turned her back to her, not wanting to look like she was eavesdropping, and continued to focus on the board in front of her.

They had already taken care of the vast majority of them. What they were working on now were small changes that were only brought in because Miranda was that type of perfectionist. Andy was relieved to hear that they had managed to make a completely new issue, which would be released on Monday. Today Miranda only had to write the letter from the editor, and tomorrow the whole issue will go to print.

While they managed to bounce back and prepare completely new articles, despite the time being cut in half, the perpetrator has not been found. The cameras were still not approved from above, so everything was unbearably delayed. Andy would like to know who was behind it and what really happened. Monday was a very long-awaited day for her, because she would only work in the morning, as the Met Gala was taking place that day, and she would not be there. She and Nigel arranged to go out and buy all the fashion magazines that would be published to have a scavenger hunt for something that might have been lifted from their archives.

She asked and checked several times if this was really how Nigel wanted to spend the day and probably part of the night, but he assured her that he had been to the Met Gala so many times that he would rather spend this one with Andy.

She was ashamed to admit it, but she burst into tears after hearing those words, probably condemning her fate to never hear anything as nice from him again.

Miranda muttered something from behind, causing Andy to turn towards her, eager to ask if she could help with something.

Instead, she was met with an unusual sight, as Miranda was sitting behind her desk with a small mirror standing in front of her, fixing her hair with rough movements. Andy blinked a few times because she had never seen anything like this before. She only glanced quickly at the door to be relieved to see that it was closed — unable to be seen by anyone.

Except Andy was anyone.

Perhaps Miranda, after years of working as editor-in-chief and after eating alive so many souls of innocent assistants, no longer saw anything human in Andy and hence her behaviour. Seeing Miranda acting like a regular person was so unusual that she never knew what to do with herself in moments like these, especially since they were happening more and more often. This woman was the disposition of a goddess who is inaccessible to wretched mortals. No one looked at her as another, regular human being, so it's no wonder that in moments like these Andy didn't know what to do with herself. Of course, she wanted a slightly closer relationship with Miranda, she did her best to ensure that this woman had complete support in her, which she never had to question.

Andy didn't think Miranda had many people in her life she could count on implicitly, so she wanted to be one of those. However, it did not change the fact that in moments like this she was completely paralysed and felt like the worst person in the world, because despite everything she was thinking about up to this point, Miranda was only a human being.

Andy couldn't tear her eyes away from her hair, which caught the sunlight streaming through the wide windows behind her boss. Their cool colour shimmered in the rays, like real snow, but there was nothing cold about them, in fact…

"What?" Miranda snapped at her and immediately the magic was gone.

Andy blinked twice and before she could stop herself, her unconditional reflex kicked into action, and she hurried to answer:

"Your hair looks nice today."

Crap.

Miranda's hands froze in place, and she adjusted that stubborn curl just one more time before resting them both on the desk.

"Nice?"

Double crap.

It's not like she had a guide on how to say something nice to Miranda. Andy didn't even want to delve into why she had this sudden urge to compliment her.

"Well, is that a bad thing?" She asked unsurely and smiled wryly, hoping to get rid of the tension. "They look... pretty. Not like every other day."

Miranda looked at her with such eyes that Andy couldn't for the life of her guess what must have been going through her head.

"Is this your poor attempt at telling me that you don't approve of my usual hairstyle?" She asked suddenly, and Andy felt her eyes open so wide in fear that she was afraid she would lose them.

"No! No! N-no, that’s not what I meant!" She started babbling rapidly, desperately trying to get out of it. "I approve, I do, not that you'd need that from me, but just so you know, well, I do." She was knee-deep in shit. "I just-, your-, they look different. Different in a nice, pretty way."

Jesus Christ...

"And here i thought you wanted to be a journalist." Miranda snorted and smiled slightly to herself, looking down and up at Andy, who felt her cheeks getting so red that she could easily play the role of Elmo.

It took her a moment to catch on, and she pouted.

"Hey! It's not my fault!" She whined and watched as Miranda, surprised that Andy was still talking to her, turned her gaze back to her. Her eyes sparkled slightly with something Andy had never seen before, but she was embarrassed and confused enough that she wouldn't be able to figure it out right now.

"Certainly it's not mine, Andrea, I'm not responsible for your vocabulary gaps."

"You're just making me nervous." Andy grumbled, knowing she was starting to sound like a little child now, but she couldn't help it, and she wanted to take advantage of the fact that Miranda seemed to be in a very good mood.

"How so?" She teased, resting her chin on her two joined hands. Her arms were resting on her elbows. "With my 'nice, pretty hair'?"

Andy, lacking the right words, just waved her hand at Miranda and turned back to the board, trying as hard as she could to ignore the fact that she was sure to hear soft laughter. She was too pissed off at the moment, but she made a mental note to appreciate it later.

During the next hour they spent together in the office, finalizing all the final changes, Andy had managed to calm down somewhat. It didn't escape her notice that Miranda had stopped fixing her hair and left it as it was before.

Andy didn't say a word this time, deciding that she'd had enough embarrassment for one day.

The upside to this whole terrible situation was that Miranda seemed to be in a much better mood, which led Andy to wonder how often Miranda received compliments. She must have heard a lot of them, right?

More than once, standing a step behind her, she heard all the conversations at galas and how many people complimented her. The only question was; how sincere it actually was? There was no doubt that these compliments about her clothes were true, even if they were said politely. Andy might not know anything about fashion, but she knew how to tell an ugly dress from a nice one, thank you very much, and even more so Miranda. The fact that she attracted the most attention at such events was nothing strange in Andy's eyes.

But what about the rest?

She could have immediately excluded the Runway employees — the reason was obvious. The only person who would dare to say anything other than 'yes, Miranda' or 'of course, Miranda' was Nigel. Andy was pretty sure she'd heard him refer to her as 'darling' or 'beautiful' a few times. The difference, however, was that between these epitaphs there were also terms such as 'countess' or 'duchess', which were intended to be mocking.

Well, they were friends, they had known each other for twenty years, if not longer, so it was no wonder Nigel allowed himself to do this. But did such phrases count as compliments then? Or did they lose value after being used so much?

She shook her head to clear herself of the shock she was feeling that such a debate was even taking place in her mind. Everyone liked compliments. There. Case closed. She just wished she would've come up with something better than what she said.

Now, however, she stood in their office kitchen, preparing tea for Miranda.

"Damn Diana Vreeland for making it all so hard on us," Emily muttered as she walked right behind Andy and opened one of the drawers, looking for something.

"Who?" Andy asked while taking honey from one of the top shelves.

"You didn't just say that." Emily suddenly straightened up and looked at her with a sluggish smile and wide eyebrows. "Diana. Vreeland." She emphasized more clearly, as if that would make Andy suddenly know who she was talking about. "She was the editor-in-chief of Runway for almost ten years in the sixties. She made the Met Gala what it is today. My God, Andy, do you not read at all?"

Andy blinked a few times, shocked by the outburst of her colleague from the desk next to her. She wasn't surprised, however, because she was stressed all the time, and Emily was one of the most susceptible people to... any external factors that Andy had ever heard of.

"Cool." She said with a spoon of honey in her mouth after she added it to the tea.

"Cool?" Emily repeated, her mouth opening and closing, and Andy couldn't help but smile because the redhead now looked like a fish. "It's not 'cool'. It's history. Bloody hell what is that?" She wrinkled her nose and pointed to the mug of already brewed tea.

"Tea."

"Make sure Miranda won't see you drinking that here, she'll scalp you." Emily advised and went back to searching through the drawers, bending down again.

"Will do." Andy assured melodiously, wondering what Emily's reaction would be if she found out the tea was for Miranda. "What are you looking for?"

"I need those big scissors, I know they were around here somewhere."

"Here." Andy cleared her throat and walked over to one of the drawers on the other side of the room and handed the tool into Emily's hand.

The redhead looked at her just a little irritated, but finally broke down and gave her a barely visible smile, taking the scissors and then quickly walking back to her desk. Andy smiled wryly to herself and, taking the tea in her hand, returned to Miranda's office, trying her best to ignore Emily's shocked look, and closed the door behind her.

Whoever invented air conditioning was officially Andy's favourite person ever.

She breathed a sigh of relief when, after standing outside for a long time and supervising the tent set up in front of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, she finally got into the car. It was hot, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. People gathered around, counting down the hours to the big event and wanting to see the preparation process with their own eyes. The screams hurt her ears, the crowd made it stuffy even though they were outside and not in a closed room.

She didn't have to be there that long, but when Miranda first sent her there 'for a moment' to see what was happening with her own eyes, Andy listened. But she couldn't go back to Runway and tell Miranda that one of the tent walls had arrived dirty and some idiot had decided to patch it up with a cutting of a completely different material. No, that was out of the question. That's why she ended up sending her an informative text message saying that she would stay there a little longer because they needed her help with something absolutely unimportant and that she would come back as soon as she could. Miranda didn't text her back, so Andy took it as acceptance of the situation.

After almost four hours, Miranda finally called her upset, demanding an explanation, and Andy had no choice but to tell her the truth. The good thing about this was that so far they had managed to get everything in place again and this time without any complications. That's why when Andy answered the phone, the tent was already fully set up in front of her; only the carpet was still being rolled out, but it was only a matter of half an hour.

Miranda had said that Roy would pick her up, so when Andy flung open the door and got in with a loud groan, it was only because she hadn't expected her boss herself to be sitting in the back-seat. She almost screamed in terror, but stopped herself at the last moment and instead focused on the pleasantly cool leather of the car seats and the slight breeze.

"Hello, Miranda, I'm sorry that it took so long, I really did-"

Miranda waved her hand, signalling her to spare herself the explanation, and Andy immediately shut up.

"Let Emily know what time to be here on Monday. Nigel has decided not to attend this year, so he has plenty of time to email me with all the locations for the scheduled photo sessions. The girls want tickets for the premiere of the 'Shining City' on Broadway. Call Stephen and cancel the reservation for tonight." Andy couldn't explain the strange relief she felt after hearing this. "And call Christopher and ask him about my dress for the evening. Also, I need his assistant to finally send me the pictures of the beige coat. He should be grateful that I chose him this year. Just because he's a Creative Director for Burberry, does not mean I'm willing to wait up until Monday, to see if the colour is accurate" Miranda recited quickly and Andy was lucky that she had her notebook in her hand when she got into the car.

"Yup." She confirmed everything by clearly emphasizing the 'p' at the end of the word and quickly added the last two sentences in her notes.

She put the notebook back in her purse when she was sure Miranda wouldn't say anything else and sat down a little more comfortably. Normally, she hated traffic jams as much as anyone else, but at the moment she was grateful for them if it meant she could spend more time in the air-conditioned car.

She wanted to close her eyes at least for a few seconds, but she decided to control herself. It didn't matter that she had already had a few friendlier conversations with Miranda, the woman still outranked her in almost everything except height. She wasn't going to take any more risks, especially since she was already familiar with how often her moods changed throughout the day. To hit the right moment with the right comment and, God forbid, a joke, was tantamount to winning the lottery. In addition, Miranda seemed much more distant than she had been a few hours ago when Andy had decided to make a fool of herself.

Did she make her uncomfortable with that? She hoped not. Especially that she planned to make it a habit to pay Miranda a compliment. It wasn't like she wanted to suck up somehow, especially since there was no need — she knew she was the better assistant. But she remembered Miranda's reaction to her making that comment about her hair, and she couldn't help but think that the woman was in desperate need of hearing things like that more often.

But now she didn't dare. It didn't matter how much bolder Andy was in her relationship with Miranda. She had no intention of crossing that invisible line of tolerance that changed for Miranda every day.

Her phone vibrated, and she quickly pulled it out of her purse, but she couldn't stop herself from inhaling louder than usual.

'Cass: i called her'

Miranda looked away from the buildings that surrounded them and glanced at Andy questioningly with a raised eyebrow.

"It's, um, not work related." She uttered plaintively, and Miranda looked away without a word.

Damn. Shit. Fuck!

Andy felt like the air conditioning was no longer adequate. Nerves made her start sweating again, because the last thing she wanted was to start texting Cassidy Priestly while Miranda Priestly sat next to her.

'Andy: I ​​can't talk now, I'll text later.'

'Cass: what is she next to you?'

'Andy: Yup.'

'Cass: then you can tell her im moving out.'

"Fuck." Andy mumbled and stuffed her phone into her purse, placing the back of her hand against her forehead.

The last time she talked to Cassidy, she managed to somewhat explain why Miranda was absent, especially now. It wasn't like she had any idea how her daughters must have felt about seeing their mother so little. Sure, they were fifteen and didn't need that much attention, but Andy thought that maybe because they were only fifteen, they needed as much of it as possible.

Of course, she was not an expert, and the advice she gave was based on her own experiences and humble beliefs. Still, she was proud that she had managed to find a common language with at least one of Miranda's daughters. She never planned to make friends with them or create any kind of relationship at all. Anyone who has ever heard of Miranda Priestly knows that the nickname 'The Dragon Lady' didn't come out of nowhere. This woman was capable of destroying anyone who even dared to mention her daughters in her articles, and Andy respected that. She even admired and agreed with it completely.

However, the twins, or at least Cassidy, did not look at their relationship with their mother from this perspective. To them, Miranda was an absent parent, not a woman who could bend space-time for her children. Of course, how protective Miranda was didn't explain the fact that she almost never had time to even go to the movies with her children. In this aspect, her ex-husband was superior to her, and it was a thought that left a very bitter aftertaste in Andy's mind.

Therefore, she had to add to her already too long list of tasks to give Miranda more time with her daughters. There was no other option. She shouldn't have a problem changing her schedule, rescheduling meetings with interested parties was like a piece of cake, because everyone adapted to Miranda. The only obstacle left was Emily, who would start to question these changes. She couldn't just tell her that Miranda should spend more time with the twins... could she?

"Excuse me?" Miranda's voice came from beside her, and it was only then that she realized that she must have said something out loud.

"Nothing, Miranda, it's, umm..." She scratches her head awkwardly and decides she might as well say it out loud, because there was nothing that bad, that Miranda could say to her. Really. "It was Cassidy." She pulled her phone out of her purse again and, opening her text messages, handed it to Miranda. "Just read that."

Within a second, Miranda tensed so much that her body seemed to tremble. Scanning Andy with her eyes, she reached for her phone and read the last message her daughter had left. She took a sudden deep breath and pressed Andy's phone into her hands without a word.

"I- I know that you might think, that…"

"No, Andrea, you don't. Roy?" Miranda snapped and turned to the driver, whom she didn't have to tell twice, and after a while the privacy screen was between them.

The woman then turned fully to face Andy, her eyes appearing at least three shades darker. Her facial features sharpened. The lines that appeared at the corners of her mouth were tight, as were those on her forehead. Andy swallowed hard, but tried her best to control her breathing. That wasn't the woman that was fixing her hair in the morning in her office.

"For some inexplicable reason that I cannot understand myself, I have allowed you into the private sphere of my life." She started slowly, her voice so low that Andy was shocked that frost hadn't started forming on the car windows. "This is a decision I regret, especially since my daughter has decided to talk to you about our relationship. You cannot understand how inappropriate this is and how much it violates my boundaries, which I have set for impertinent assistants like yourself who interfere where no one wants them. Don't tell me what I might think, because I assure you, that I'm well aware of my relationship with my daughter without you having to educate me on the subject. No matter what you’ve convinced yourself of in that little head of yours."

Andy swallowed hard and blinked twice quickly to clear away the tears that were forming in her eyes. Well, Miranda definitely knew how to hit hard enough to hurt. She sniffed quickly and looked down at her trembling hands.

"Yes, Miran-"

"And stop crying, for God's sake, you're not a child."

Andy pursed her lips and eyes and, without saying another word, focused on the buildings behind them.

"Okay, so what happened?" Doug sighed as soon as he entered her apartment. He closed the door behind him and went deeper to find Andy.

"Here!" She raised her voice and after a while she came out of the bathroom. "I'm sorry for the phone call, I-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell me what happened, come on." Doug interrupted her and pulled her lightly towards the couch.

It was still before 6pm. After the unfortunate ride with Miranda, they returned to the office and Andy almost fell to her knees to beg Emily to take care of the Book today. It wasn't that she was afraid of a potential confrontation on much less certain ground, of course not, but!, it turned out that 'the prudent man was as safe as ever', or something along those lines that her grandma used to say. She could potentially run into Cassidy, who would think it would be a good time to say some things that Miranda might hear.

Andy couldn't afford something like that.

So she went home early, knowing that she would suffer the terrible consequences in the near future as she now owed a favour to Emily and called Doug. She hoped that he wouldn't find out too quickly that he was a great psychologist and advisor — not only financial. He might start demanding money from her for all the sessions

"She said that I'm pretty." She finally uttered and bit her lip, waiting for Doug's reaction.

He looked at her as if she had something funny on her face, took a breath to say something, but then gave up. He finally leaned back on the couch, tucking one leg under himself and turned fully to face her.

"You'll have to break it down for me. She? You didn't call because of Nate?"

"What?" Now Andy was confused. "No! He and I... we're-, things are stable between us. You could even say it's better." She laughed briefly without humour. "Can you imagine? We just have to have the same conversation over and over again and promise each other that we will change and stay calm until the next fight. It's quite efficient, and..."

"Okay, first of all; that is one of the dumbest things you've ever said. I don't even have the words to tell you how sad that is." He interrupted her, and Andy bit her lip, still smiling slightly, knowing she was on the verge of crying again. "But if we're not here to talk about him then why are you crying?"

Andy let out a shaky exhale and began to pull the invisible hair out of her sweatpants, because maintaining eye contact with anyone now seemed too much of a challenge. But finally she looked up at Doug and muttered;

"She said that I'm pretty."

"Who?"

"Miranda!" Andy rolled her eyes. He was sometimes really slow.

"...okay?" Doug started carefully and watched her closely. "And that made you cry?"

"Oh my God, No!" She cried, no longer able to hold back the wet tone in her voice. She drew her voice and continued; "She was vicious, Doug, later in the car, I was trying to help, and she- she's just-"

"Calm down, lady." He moved closer to her, and his tone of voice changed to a much more confident one. "From the beginning, 'couse right now you ain't making much sense."

She took a deep breath.

"Some time ago we were in her office and working late… not about the Met." She started slowly and ignored the impulse to roll her eyes at the way Doug's eyes lit up at the mention of the event. "I don't know how but the fact that I was in Stanford for a year came up, and she said, to quote; 'do you think I'd just hire any pretty girl?'... or something like that."

Doug was looking at her intently and Andy could almost hear and see all the processors under his skull working to come up with an answer.

"Andy, what is this about? You sound weird."

She rolled her eyes and sat back, her tone much more assertive now;

"The thing is, Douggie, that she's saying stuff like that, and I can't stop thinking about it. And she does that only to make me cry in the car a few days later because every time someone tries to help her she has to, must!, respond with an attack!" There was no stopping her now. "It's like she's incapable of accepting that someone might care. She started talking to me normally on her own, which has made me confused for the last few weeks because Miranda doesn't like talking about things unrelated to work with anyone but herself. I just went with it, as always. I even made her my tea! And suddenly she turns on me and tells me that I'm crossing some boundaries?!"

"Andy-"

"Why tell me she thinks I'm pretty if in fact she sees me as this annoying kid seeking attention!"

"Why do you care so much?" Doug asked almost immediately, his voice so calm that for a moment Andy felt like they were talking about two different things.

"Wha- How can I not?"

Now she was really confused. What she felt was important. Her life revolved around Miranda and that was an indisputable fact. This woman was a big part of her life, not only because she had an impact on Andy's future career, but she was also inseparable element of her private life. Miranda's opinion was important to her, whether she liked it or not. When someone was so much of your everyday life, it was hard not to get at least a little attached.

The thing about Andy was that she was very trusting and maybe a little naive. When someone showed her sympathy and kindness, she couldn't help but warm up to them much faster. Miranda had started to become more human over the last few days, and it was such a pleasant surprise that Andy couldn't help but feel a twinge of genuine friendly sympathy begin to grow within her. However, the impact with reality was much harder than she expected, because she had already forgotten about Miranda's side, which she knew much better.

The worst thing about it, however, was that she somehow understood Miranda's outburst. The topic was very sensitive and perhaps she shouldn't have spoken to her at that time, especially since she could see that something was wrong. Still, she didn't think she deserved such harsh words.

"She's your boss, that's the relationship you two have. She got mad, she lashed out on you any that's that." Doug shrugged. "You need to stop taking everything so personally. You don't need her for anything other than writing you a good reference at the end of your job."

"But I want-" Andy stopped quickly because she felt like she was treading into territory she didn't want to go into.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just-" She sighed and rubbed her eyes, slowly calming down. "I want her to like me."

"She does, we established that already." Doug looked at her like she was stupid. She couldn't hide the fact that this was how she felt.

"Well, yeah, but I want us to be... I don't know... friends?"

"You wanna be friends with Miranda Priestly." Doug said matter of fact, and Andy felt her cheeks start to heat up a little. "Are you on drugs?"

"Well it's not that weird!" She whined and got up from the couch, frustrated that she had to explain such obvious things. "I like her, if she wants to she can be fun. There's nothing wrong with me wanting to discover her a bit more..."

"Discov-?"

"Besides," Now she was pacing back and forth in the small living room, kneading the red carpet under her feet and not noticing her friend's surprised look. "She's saying things like that all by herself when there's no one else around. It's impossible not to care! And lately she's been allowing herself a lot more when we're alone. ..."

"How?" Doug asked, but he didn't have to, he realized.

"... normally she's always stiff with a scowl on her face, which makes people stay away from her. But when we're alone, she starts smiling for no reason at all, which makes me go crazy because I don't know if she's laughing at me, or to me, or, or, or is she just a sociopathic killer and Page Six is ​​right."

She finally stopped and, with a confused and stressed expression, looked at Doug, who was sitting comfortably on the couch with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really do care, don't you?" He finally asked, and Andy frowned, not understanding.

She’s been saying this from the start.

"Well, yeah!"

"You're having a crush on Miranda Priestly." Doug said in a tone way too high for him to be saying something so stupid.

Andy rolled her eyes and grimaced slightly because she didn't like it when Doug didn't take her problems seriously.

"Very funny, I'm serious, Doug, help me out here!" She waved her hand, pointing to the space between them.

"Me too. You have a girl crush on her. I can't blame you, though, the woman is hot." He laughed, she blushed a little, and he laughed even harder.

"Stop talking about her like that!"

"Well am I wrong? I'm gay as a bucket of wigs and I'd-"

"Uh-huh, yeah, okay." She mumbled, interrupting him because she didn't want to hear the end of what he said. She felt her cheeks burning, and the bright light in the room, plus her friend's attentive gaze, didn't help to cool down her body temperature one bit. "She's my boss, and I'm straight as a bucket without wigs."

"So what? She's also way older, and it doesn't change the fact that you care." He chuckled again, driving Andy crazy.

She took a pillow from the couch and threw it lightly at him, smiling crookedly.

"Emily also cares. I'm her assistant I have to care."

"I'm not seeing Emily trying to befriend the queen, only you."

"Doesn't mean that I have a crush. I'm with Nate and-"

"Andy, Jesus, I'm not saying that you're in love or something. It's just a little crush. It's normal. I can assure you that the better half of gay population can relate to you, but it doesn't mean that they want to sleep with her. Well we do but it's not like- never mind." He shook his head and stopped for a moment, and Andy was grateful for that because he was starting to say things that she definitely didn't understand. "What I'm trying to say is that there's nothing wrong with that. It's mostly that you want her to like you and to appreciate you. It's not the same as if you'd want to drag her to your bed. Well, would you?"

Andy's eyes widened, and she looked at him again. Doug looked at her with one eyebrow raised and the one-sided smile she knew so well. He brazenly made fun of her, even though she invited him to her apartment to seek help.

"No!"She almost screamed, and much too quickly, as she didn't want to provoke another wave of laughter from her friend. "I don't! I just want-, ugh, I don't even know what I want any more. Shut up!" She hit him again when he started laughing even harder, but eventually she followed suit.

Doug could make fun of her all he wanted and insinuate stupid theories, but she knew better. The fact that she was concerned about Miranda and wanted to help her was simply proof that she had something of the Samaritan in her after all.

"What's up with the screaming?" They heard suddenly and quickly calmed down. "Hey, man!"

Nate stood in the doorway with a shopping bag in his hands and a bunch of keys. He took a few steps towards them and hugged Doug, then placed a quick kiss on Andy's lips.

She ignored the strange bitterness that settled in the pit of her stomach after the kiss. She couldn't let go of the guilt, especially after the conversation she had just had with Doug, and she hadn't done anything wrong.

"Hi, how's work?" Doug quickly came back to his senses and stood up from the couch, walking over to Nate and sitting in the chair closer to him. "We haven't seen each other in a while."

Andy, on the other hand, stayed on the couch. She reached for one of the pillows and placed it on her thighs, resting her elbows on it. She let her hair down, which was previously tied in a bun, and covered her face with it. She had no idea that Nate would also be home early from work that day.

"Same old, ya know? You better tell me what has been going on with you, man, we need to catch up!"

Did she really care that much? Andy was one of those people who, when she did something, she gave it her all, but it wasn't like the job required those things from her. Yes, Miranda expected much more from her assistants than the job description indicated, but she had her limits, which she recalled today with pleasure and vigour.

"Still an accountant!" Doug laughed, and Nate followed. "Still buried in boring numbers, but at least they moved me to a bigger office. I'm not sitting next to Sally any more."

So why did she have such a passionate need to get involved in a cause where no one wanted her? Miranda made it clear that helping her was not welcome. There was nothing she could do about it. But what about Cassidy? She assured her that she would be available to contact her with any problems, no matter how trivial. She couldn't just block her number now. She wouldn't forgive herself for this.

"Oh, right! Sally!" Nate laughed loudly to the rustle of groceries being pulled from paper bags. "Is she still... ya know."

No, she thought, she couldn't leave her. Since she had become so involved in Miranda's family affairs, she had no choice but to keep her promise to one of her daughters. If their mother didn't support it, so be it. This will be explained later. She cared, damn it, so she was going to help, whether Miranda approved or not.

"Yeah, she is." Doug mumbled and snorted under his breath. "Happy to be away from her."

"No surprise there," Nate nodded and put the next couple of things in the fridge. "Andy? What about you?"

Andy looked away from the carpet she had been staring at the entire time, only half-listening to their conversation. She was too immersed in her own thoughts to fully engage with what was happening right next to her.

"Huh?" She raised her head and turned it sharply towards the two guys standing in her kitchen. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

Nate sighed heavily, making her wince slightly, and she didn't miss that Doug frowned as well, but didn't say a word, most likely not wanting to interfere.

"I asked about your day." He explained in a bored tone and looked at her as if waiting for a quick answer. "How was work?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but then the phone rang. She reached for him at the table and, ignoring her boyfriend's irritated snort, looked to see who was calling her.

Miranda.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this." She mumbled and stood up quickly from the couch, heading towards the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She answered the call with her heart beating at a pace that seemed beyond natural. She had no idea what to expect, especially since she hadn't spoken a word to Miranda since their... conversation... in the car. Andy was hurt, offended and angry.

"Yes, Miranda?" She said as soon as she put the phone to her ear.

Her tone was cold and distant, and she hoped she would keep it that way throughout this conversation. She wanted to hang up before they started talking in earnest.

But no one answered and Andy checked to make sure she hadn't actually hung up on her. She felt a sudden wave of panic, because if she did, she could be getting ready to work in the mine with Miranda's reference in her hand. However, the call continued and when she put the phone to her ear again, she was even able to hear someone breathing on the other end of the line.

"I-" It sounded on the phone. Miranda's voice broke off, however, and was immediately followed by another layer of silence. “Call Emily and tell her that tomorrow she’s coming with me to the museum for last check-ups.”

The line went dead.

Andy returned to the living room and joined her boyfriend and friend, although she was not fully present in their conversation. Why would Miranda call her instead of just contacting Emily? She could have called her first assistant directly, so why make things harder for herself?

Miranda liked to make life difficult for everyone around her. That was that.

It was officially Friday.

Of course, it wasn't any special day, and Andy had nothing planned for it. She clung to the thought that it was the last day before the weekend, which she would have completely free for the first time in a long time. Miranda preferred to work with Emily and stay away from Andy completely?

Fine by me, she thought.

She was completely at peace with the fact that the collaborative work sessions with Miranda at her desk were over. She ignored the fact that it had only happened once — she got used to it. She also didn't care at all what today would actually look like, because why should she? Andy will just come in, do what she's supposed to do all day long and nothing out of the ordinary, and come home after picking up the Book.

This time she wouldn't ask Emily for it, it was enough that she owed her one favour.

Andy was a big girl, so she wouldn't hide and would walk into Miranda's house with her head held high, leave her laundry in the closet across from the stairs, put the Book on the flower dresser, and pray that Miranda was on the other side of the house.

She walked quickly with coffee in her hand and pushed the glass door, heading straight to her desk. She looked into the kitchen and took water from the fridge, put her purse on the chair and walked into Miranda's office, setting her coffee down on her desk. Andy placed the glass next, and poured water into it, and began to arrange the newspapers and other magazines that Miranda had a habit of looking through immediately after arriving at work. She glanced at the whiteboard in the corner of the room where they had been working the day before and shook her head at the memory of her last embarrassment.

Miranda will definitely have her hair styled as usual.

She returned to her seat and flinched slightly when her phone vibrated with a message from Roy and headed towards the elevator to greet Miranda. She swallowed harder and steeled herself, even though she didn't know what to expect.

The elevator doors opened and Miranda took two steps forward, taking off her sunglasses. She lost a step when she saw Andy, but the expression on her face didn't say anything specific. Instead, she moved forward, and Andy followed her like a faithful puppy.

"Whoever sent the models for the underwater shoot must have been dropped on their head as a small child. They are highly unattractive, and they make the clothes look… ugly. Patrick asked about slim, beautiful girls, and he got the complete opposite."

She wrote word after word quickly, using practised movements to avoid the clothes racks that stood in their way. Miranda stopped at one point, causing Andy to bounce slightly off her and look up from her notes. She looked at her up and down and Andy could have sworn something flashed in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"We need at least two girls with long, dark brown hair and eyes like yours." Miranda said finally and turned on her heel so quickly that Andy didn't even have time to properly hear what was said.

She stood still for a few seconds, unable to decide how she should interpret Miranda's command, but she quickly woke up and ran forward to listen to all the tasks for today.

Miranda must have sensed that Andy was standing next to her, because she began to speak again as she took off her coat;

"Harper or Madeline should be available. Contact them and present the idea of ​​the session and the terms of the contract." She pushed her coat into Andy's hands, avoiding eye contact. "Call my husband and remind him of our dinner at 8pm, and get me Nigel. Now."

Andy nodded, more to herself than to anyone else, and with the last few words, she hung up the coat and the purse in the closet, and then entered Miranda's office to tell her the schedule for the day.

"What did you do?" Emily hissed later in the day, when Miranda finally went out to her lunch with Irv.

Andy looked up from her computer screen. So soon before the Met Gala, they didn't have that much to do outside the office. At first, she was happy with the idea of ​​sitting all day long, because she was usually running around the city like crazy, but after a few hours of staring at the computer, she felt like the home page of her e-mail would be burned into her eyes forever. She wanted to go outside and get some fresh air, especially since she still felt uncomfortable being so close to Miranda after their last conversation.

The start of the day wasn’t as bad as she initially feared. Miranda was acting as usual, although Andy felt like she sensed as much awkwardness from her as she felt herself. However, during the day, when there was a need, Emily was called.

The British woman was surprised by this and every time her name was mentioned by their boss, she sent a confused look towards Andy. Despite the general envy and satisfaction that Miranda had finally seen the light, she looked as if she was shocked that Andy had been put away so quickly to the side.

"Nothing." Andy shrugged and looked back at her computer screen.

"Don't be ridiculous." Emily snorted. "You must have done something if I'm suddenly the one being sent out to get coffee."

She shrugged again and sighed, shifting slightly in her seat. Her butt was already starting to hurt, not to mention her neck. She leaned her elbows on the desk and rubbed her eyelids gently with her fingers, praying it wouldn't smudge too much. The relief, although momentary, was indescribable.

"Stop ignoring me!" Emily huffed and Andy, letting her hands fall limply on the desk, gave her a tired look.

"I'm not ignoring you. I'm just tired." She explained. “And I didn’t do anything, she’s just-, I don’t know, she’s just Miranda.”

"Miranda my ass." Emily mumbled and Andy felt her jaw drop and stared at the redhead in disbelief.

"Emily!"

"What?" She was looking at her own computer, pretending to be innocent, but Andy didn't miss the small, sly smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "We both know you're the favourite."

Andy rolled her eyes. She had heard it from almost everyone and was officially fed up.

Why was she being punished for simply being good at her job? The only thing she was guilty of was that she followed Miranda's orders without any problem, finding the fastest and most effective way to achieve the goal. And yet, for some reason, everyone looked at her with dislike, and it was only because Miranda seemed to notice her efforts.

Of course, she would never say it outright, but it was obvious when Andy suddenly started accompanying her on most of her car rides from one meeting to the next. Andy personally felt that if she were Miranda, she would prefer to take herself with her as well. Yeah, she was awkward and would say something stupid from time to time but at least she wasn't fidgeting when she was closer to Miranda than two feet.

"I'm not the-, whatever." She waved her hand and straightened herself again, stretching her back as much as she could. "If I were, I would go to the Met with her, not you." She added after a moment, deciding that she might as well add to the redhead's already high ego.

It worked, because within a second Emily lifted her head up, almost punching a hole in the ceiling with her nose, and snorted nonchalantly.

"Obviously she knows who deserves it more."

"I'm sure she does." Andy replied sarcastically and went back to sending emails.

"What did you do then?" Asked Nigel and Andy was on the verge of jumping out of the bridge.

She groaned loudly directly to her phone, to make sure he knew how frustrated she was with the question. A bunch of people looked her way, but she ignored them because she was already experienced enough in receiving funny looks from strangers.

"Nothing." She hissed, hoping that he'd just drop the subject.

She sat in the subway station waiting with the Book safely tucked away in her purse. She threw her leg over the other leg and tapped it lightly, although she wasn't sure whether it was out of impatience or cold. During the last hot days, Andy left the house convinced that she would be begging for at least one cloud in the sky all day long to cover the hot sun. Instead, it turned out that the temperatures dropped again, which she felt now, shortly after 10 pm. She had nothing with her to keep her warm, and she wished she had stopped by the Closet on the way out.

Nigel called her unexpectedly, and she answered immediately with a smile on her face. Due to all these preparations, they didn't have much time to talk. Either she was out of the office or he was going from one meeting to another, and unfortunately time was limited in a day. Now she was starting to regret even looking at her phone, because they had been talking for almost ten minutes, and Nigel had actually been pestering her for that time.

"Whatever you did, I hope karma comes back to you, because Miranda almost threw me to the models today." Nigel stated and Andy snorted. "Okay, Six, seriously, what is going on? You two are avoiding each other and it's making me uncomfortable."

"Imagine how I feel." She mumbled, looking around the platform. She hated these evening subway rides, she always felt like she was being watched.

"Surprise me."

She sighed heavily and scratched her forehead, not sure how she should even start this conversation. She felt stupid. She interfered with Miranda's private life and now she was crying because she got beat up for it? Please, she was acting like a child, she was aware of it, but the worst part was that she was unable to stop it. She cared, she had accepted that fact for a long time, not only after her last embarrassing conversation with Doug, so she felt hurt when she was pushed away so harshly. However, she was an adult and decided at that moment that she would start behaving like that too.

"We had a fight."

Nice, and simple.

"You had a fight." He repeated. "You had a fight. With Miranda."

"Yup."

"How are you still breathing?"

Andy rolled her eyes. This false belief among people that Miranda was some kind of monster had started to annoy her some time ago. The fact that even Nigel was making comments like that rubbed her the wrong way.

"We had a fight and that's it. We're on not speaking terms at the moment."

"I can see that. In fact, everyone can see that. What was it?"

That was something she wasn't comfortable sharing with. Doug was on slightly different terms. She had known him for many years, but above all, he did not work with Miranda on a daily basis. Talking about her with him was almost like talking about someone completely normal, a friend Andy talked about often. Nigel, on the other hand, knew Miranda much better than she did, and what's more, he saw her every day and worked close enough. Andy didn't want to tell him about what was happening between them. She would feel like she was betraying a woman's trust like that.

"Doesn't matter. The point is-" She had no idea, really. "The point is that I'm on my way to her house now, hoping that it won't be as stressful as I think."

"Just come in, leave the Book and get out."

This time she rolled her eyes so hard that for a split-second she was afraid she would lose her sight.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

"Lets drop the attitude, shall we?" Nigel spoke on the other end and Andy cringed.

"Yeah, sorry, I just have a lot on my mind lately."

The sound of the train filled her ears, and she stood up quickly. She walked to the edge of the platform, still keeping a safe distance, and looked around twice to make sure no one was looking at her in a disturbing way. Knowing that she had one more transfer awaiting her was not the least bit comforting.

When the doors slid open, she quickly got in and took one of the seats, hugging her purse.

When she started borrowing clothes from the Closet, she didn't think about how much more dangerous riding the subway would become. Branded clothes were great, there was no doubt about that, but one of the main things about them, was that they made her look like she had a lot of money. Such a connection with the metro was not one she could have dreamed of. She was a young woman in a Calvin Klein skirt and a Prada blouse, and she attracted the attention of others. Sometimes she had the thought of taking up taxis, but she quickly forgot about it when she started thinking about how much money she would spend on it.

Since she was a child she liked the idea of taking the subway, especially since she didn't have it every day while living in Cincinnati. It was one of the things she was most excited about before she moved to New York. But now, after travelling so many times and seeing the same dirty armchairs and walls, it seemed absurd to her.

When she finally arrived at the Lexington Avenue station, she transferred to another train and ended her conversation with Nigel. She felt like he was pushing her a little too hard about why Miranda was in such a mood, so she hung up on him and said she was already there — she didn't think Nigel knew enough about the subway to verify her little lie.

Now, however, Andy was reaching the very door of the town house on 129 East 73rd Street. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and ran up the now familiar five steps and stood in front of Miranda's door. She took two deep breaths and reached for the keys to turn two locks. She went inside and walked quickly, trying to be quiet, and first went to the closet to hang up the laundry. As she returned to the hall and turned towards the depths of the house, she almost screamed in terror when Miranda suddenly materialized in front of her, standing speechless.

"Jesus Christ!" Andy hissed, with the last remnants of her sober mind not to scream, placed both hands on her chest, breathing heavily.

Miranda smirked, she was sure of that, and waited patiently for Andy to calm down, standing with one hand on her hip. She was wearing a plain black V-neck shirt, half hidden under a longer, beige cardigan that looked so incredibly soft that Andy wanted to touch the fabric to see for herself. Her trousers were pegged, a colour a few shades darker and deeper than the cardigan. Her hair was styled the way Andy, she realised, liked best.

She got a little red in the face when she realised the train of her thoughts. Look at her having favourite Miranda's hairstyles.

"Are you quite all right, Andrea?" Miranda asked finally, and the tone of her voice, as light as she hadn’t heard it in a long time, anchored Andy to the ground and quickly calmed down.

"Y-yes, thank you." She nodded and reached for the Book in her purse.

Normally, the day before printing started, she didn't take it, because there was no need to make any corrections, but Miranda informed them that she was expecting the Book at her house today, so Andy dutifully came with it.

Now standing under Miranda's calculating gaze, she was starting to regret not asking Emily for another favour.

"Here you go." She whispered and handed the Book straight into Miranda's hands.

The woman visibly swallowed and reached for it. Andy expected her to turn on her heel and walk away, but Miranda instead placed the Book on the flower dresser without breaking eye contact.

"Come with me, Andrea, we need to talk."

Shit.

Andy nodded uncertainly and followed Miranda into the house. She briefly thought about turning and running away, because the woman in front of her not once turned around to see if Andy was actually following her. However, she decided not to embarrass herself any more, because if she ran away now, she wouldn't be able to look her in the eye for the next year.

Miranda led her to the same room as last time and Andy, perhaps a little cheekily, without needing any instructions, sat down in a familiar place in the corner of the grey sofa.

Perhaps she was acting a little childish, but she couldn't even tell if she was sorry, a little offended, or just scared by how much she was trying to enter Miranda's life without any specific permission. She had never thought of herself as someone who liked to interfere in other people's lives, but this time she felt like she couldn't help herself. Not because she was nosy, but out of a simple desire to help.

Miranda sat on the other end of the couch and folded her hands in her lap without saying a word. Suddenly she seemed much smaller as she was enveloped in the warm light from the lamps that were the only ones illuminating the room. Patty was waddling somewhere in the house — she could hear the tapping of her claws on the wooden floor. Miranda didn't speak though, instead looking somewhere behind Andy's head, as if trying to find the right words to start a conversation.

Andy couldn’t take the tension.

"I wouldn't judge you." She blurted out quickly, surprising herself. "I'm not judging you."

Miranda immediately focused on her and took a deep breath, as if surprised that Andy was actually sitting on the couch in her house, even though she was the one who initiated it.

"I'm sorry for how thing went with Cassidy, and I'm sorry I got caught up in this, but all I want is just to help."

"Your job is to help me at work, not with raising my children." Miranda spoke up and Andy tightened her grip and jaw so hard so as not to take these words too personally.

"I-, I know." She whispered and cleared her throat to start speaking again in a more confident voice; "But I'm not a kind of person to ignore stuff like that."

Miranda smiled slightly at her words and nodded slowly, looking down at her hands, but just as quickly returning her gaze to Andy. As if catching herself that she couldn't show her confusion.

Andy was surprised to notice that Miranda, despite her strong personality and general self-confidence, when it came too much more mundane topics, let alone family ones, lost that twinkle in her eye that told you she was in absolute control. As if these things that were natural to most people were something she couldn't quite deal with.

When Andy realized this, she felt a sudden surge of courage and turned a little more towards Miranda.

"I'm your assistant, Miranda, I know how much work you have." She started very slowly, afraid that if she pressed too hard, Miranda would run away and hide like a wounded animal. "When I see there's a problem, I fix it. I know I went into a private space for you now, and I'm sorry because I know you well enough to know you don't tolerate this kind of behaviour, but-. But I want to help. I promise, that I won't sell you to the press." She tried to make a joke at the end and hoped she got it right because she didn't want to scare Miranda even more.

"I know-" Miranda sighed and ran a hand through her hair in a sort of nervous gesture. "I know that, Andrea, of course."

At that moment, Andy realized how awkward Miranda must have felt right now. She realized that despite the fact that she was a guest in the woman's house, it was she, Andy, who had control over this conversation, and Miranda couldn't quite find her way in it.

It was strange to see Miranda in such a position; not sure and maybe even a little lost. This woman had dignity written in her blood. She exuded confidence. She had this aura around her that attracted others. Almost as if she was the brightest star in the sky to which sailors look to find their way at sea. People orbited around her, she had the last word, the most important decisions depended on her, which she made with a cool and calculating mind. There was no question of doubt, because if there was one thing Miranda was sure of, or had faith in, it was herself.

Miranda was a bit of like chaos, in the best sense of the word, or rather she was the one causing it. People lost their words and thoughts when dealing with her, and yet she was able to bring them to the surface, no matter how deep they were chained. She was a chaos, because it all started with her, but also with her the final stop was found. Everything had a purpose, every action was well-thought-out, and while the process might have been bumpy for most, Miranda was always focused on her goal. The destination. Of course, she must have liked what she did, maybe even loved it, to spend so many years in the business. She was the best at what she did and absolutely everyone who saw her at least once knew it. To doubt Miranda Priestly was almost tantamount to doubting that the earth was round.

So to see her now so unsure not only of what she should say, but seemingly even of her own thoughts, was disorienting and unusual. Andy didn't think any of the people who dealt with Miranda Priestly, the editor-in-chief of Runway, knew how to react or respond to this shy side.

She took two more breaths nervously, not sure what she should do next. She was a damn good assistant though, so she decided to make things right; she gave Miranda an out.

"I should go home, it's late and I don't want to take up any more of your time."

Miranda used it.

"Yes, of course."

They both stood up and Miranda walked Andy to the door, hiding halfway behind it just like the first time, and to her surprise, she smiled slightly at Andy. That smile, she felt, meant so much more than any words she could use right now.

"Goodnight, Miranda."

"Goodnight, Andrea."

And here she was on the empty street of the Upper East Side, with a big smile on her face.

When she returned home and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, she looked at her reflection because she noticed a sparkle in her eyes that she had never seen in herself before. It didn't matter that Nate was already asleep, and she would most likely have another argument the next day about the fact that she was avoiding him. Her life was slipping through her fingers the more she tried to grab them and squeeze them for any sense of control.

She didn't think that talking to Miranda would make the feeling of the raging ocean inside her that was interfering with her ability to function normally calm down. The storm was over and there was peace to which she was so accustomed and attached that she didn't think she could live without it. Not if she wanted to feel full.

Chapter Text

MIRANDA

1994

The moment when the twins were born was one of those that changed her life forever. Not because she dreamed of becoming a mother and finally did, because starting a family was never a priority for her.

Truth be told, she never thought she would become a mother. Now her dearest daughters were already two years old, but when she recalled what she was like a few years ago, she wouldn't have said that the day would come when someone would call her a 'mom'.

She and her husband moved to New York less than six years ago. They met when she was still working as a junior editor for the French fashion magazine Chic. Despite all the years she and Greg had spent under the same roof, there were still days when she felt like a stranger there. She chose the house herself, as well as the furniture and paint colours on the walls. She did everything to make the new place her home, where she would feel at ease and as if she belonged.

Miranda never felt like she had one place on earth. Raised on the streets of London under the watchful eye of her grandmother and absent father, it was what she knew best, and although these things were what surrounded her from the moment she took her first steps, she couldn't find her place in them. Not because she grew up in a broken home due to the death of her mother, but because she felt it was not the place for her. Perhaps she still harboured some kind of fondness for this city, but she managed to bury it before she set out into the world.

Paris seemed like her place at first. She didn't know the language, she didn't know the people. She got in with the most valuable clothes she had made for herself and every issue of Runway she had collected so far and bought a plane ticket to a better tomorrow. She didn't look back, but for the first three years she sent letters to her grandmother every week to tell her where she was, what she saw and what she did.

Miranda never got an answer.

The mourning after losing her family by her own choice lasted a long time, although she never allowed herself to completely drown in it. She had a goal she was going to reach, whether she had supportive people with her or not. She assumed that she didn't need anyone to survive in this business — no one except herself.

The day she met Greg wasn't special. In fact, it was one of the greyer ones she had experienced. It was September, Paris Fashion Week. She sat in one of the last rows wearing large, round glasses, which were considered the most fashionable in the early eighties. They suited her face, and she still wore them sometimes while working in the privacy of her own home. Her hair was longer then. They looked as if they had been dusted with a reddish colour; fluffy, reaching to her shoulders, on which they rested, curling slightly. She wasn't there for work, she only managed to get in because of the connections she had. Greg came because at the time he was dating one of the models who were going to walk in the show.

Miranda found a place that was rather forgotten by the organizing team. In fact, she shouldn't have been there without being officially invited or having enough money to pay the entrance fee. However, we were talking about Chanel, and Karl Lagerfeld was becoming an increasingly bigger name in the fashion world. The risk was worth taking.

Greg then sat down not far from her, not noticing her at first, just as she paid no attention to him. She sat upright, with her notebook and sketchbook on her lap, looking at each creation, studying it carefully. Only later did she feel that the atmosphere next to her had changed and a man she did not know joined her and did not look at his then girlfriend for the rest of the show.

Miranda was convinced she was in love, even though the feeling was nowhere near the one she had read about in romance novels like any other teenager. She felt affection and sympathy. She liked looking at him and spending time with him, and perhaps it was her grandmother's teachings, which were deeply rooted in her and resisted attempts to break them out, that told her that she should marry him.

Don't get her wrong, she knew she wanted to marry someone someday, but her desire to lead a life so different from the one she knew kept her from thinking much about it. Greg turned out to be a good man, although she should have taken note of how quickly he looked away from the model to focus on her. Perhaps her ignorance was caused by the fact that, despite how closed and focused she was, she felt that she was missing something... or rather someone.

It wasn't long before they were married. He moved permanently to Paris and learned French with her. They were happy, although Miranda saw him more as a friend than a lover. Until now, she was grateful to him for all the years they had spent together so far and that he was still waiting for her to come home, especially now that they had two daughters.

She couldn't help but think that if it weren't for the children, they would have gone their separate ways. Greg initially admired her for her hunger for success, for her dedication to her career and passion. When she landed a job on the French edition of Runway, he supported her, and they celebrated together when she succeeded. She remembered how they were looking for a flat together in the centre of Paris, because both she and he earned enough to afford it. When, after only two years, she received an offer from Elias-Clark to move to the United States to take over the local version of Runway, he bought plane tickets for them without a word of objection and went with her.

She was grateful to him for many things and sacrifices he made for her. She knew what she was like, how hard it was for others to talk to her, how cut off from reality, some might say, she was. Despite everything, he remained by her side, head over heels in love, and for that she tried to love him too.

"Would you like to have kids, my love?" He asked one day, and she still remembered how she froze in place and looked at him with shock on her face.

It was their first big fight. After all, she was fast approaching thirty, and he was several years older than her. He wanted to start a family and Miranda understood that, but the problem was that she was just starting to blossom. Children were never in her plans, let alone at that particular moment. However, she didn't think he would react that badly to her refusal, how hurt he would be and how much she would change in his eyes. From then on, they talked less, and he became as distant as she was, and only then did she fully understand how hard it must have been for him to be around her.

The year she was supposed to turn thirty, she found out she was pregnant. But it didn't happen the way any woman could have dreamed. Completely by accident, during routine questions, the words: 'You're having twins, congratulations!' To say she was devastated would be a gross understatement. She didn't want children, not when she was just starting to build a name for herself as captain of the ship that was American Runway. Children were something that would take up her precious time, something that would slow her down and perhaps stop her career completely. She didn't tell her husband right away. Truth be told, she kept the information to herself for the first two weeks, thinking, if wouldn't it be better to keep it to herself, have the abortion and forget about the topic. However, the vision of losing the stability and balance that Greg had given her for so many years was so foreign and terrifying that she finally shared the news with him.

To say he was happy would be an understatement. The perfect father, she thought. The warmth in their relationship and the love that she was sure to have faded away had returned. Her feelings for him never changed. She cared for him, wanted him close, but she still wouldn't be able to believe that this was what was so beautifully portrayed in the most famous films and plays.

When the day finally came for their daughters to be born, she felt nothing like she had hoped for in the months leading up to it. She lived in the belief that when they were born, she would love them immediately at the first sight. That she would turn into a perfect mother, ready to sacrifice everything she had for their good and safety. But as she looked at the crying, ugly and wrinkled faces of her newborn children who had been growing inside her all these months, she felt nothing. Instead, she began to cry and was grateful that Greg was there to hug and comfort her, although he was sure it was out of tiredness and that his previously distant wife showed so much emotion. He had no idea about the real reason for her tears, and she promised herself that no one would ever find out.

Fortunately, over time she learned to love her children. Now, after two years, she couldn't imagine coming home without them. Caroline and Cassidy; their two beautiful and smart daughters, who became the reason why Miranda started working even harder. She swore to herself that she would do everything so that these two little girls would never have to worry about whether they would have something to eat the next day or what to wear on colder ones. She wasn't a perfect mother, she knew that, but who was? Every day felt like her first. Despite two years of life as a mother, despite the many things she had managed to learn, she still doubted whether she could cope. She wasn't just raising children, in the sense of the word, but she was responsible for two little people who would grow up to lead their own lives just like she did. The responsibility was burdensome, because how was she, a woman so closed and detached from her family, supposed to raise good people in one? She didn't want her daughters to adopt her introversion, her selfishness and the belief that she had to do everything herself. She dreaded the years that would come when her daughters would grow into what were sure to be beautiful women who would begin to experience the outside world as much as she did. She didn't want this for them, but she had an impression that she has already condemned them to eternal life in the spotlight.

Her name was recognisable, and so far, despite Greg's complaints, she stood firm on her decision not to take his. She didn't want to belong to anyone, no matter if it was tradition or not. She wore her name with pride because she created it for herself, thus completely cutting herself off from the past and becoming who she always wanted to become. She would not allow herself to transform into a wife and mother, although to some extent that is what happened. She wanted, no, needed to keep a part of herself that belonged only to her.

Now, sitting behind the desk in her office, she stared at the photo of her daughters and her husband that stood on the corner, framed in dark wood. She couldn't help but smile as she looked at the family she had created for herself.

"Here you are, my lady!" A voice rang out, and she looked up at one of the few people she could call a friend. She gave him a wide smile and took the glasses off her nose, setting them on the desk next to the papers she should have filled out long ago.

"Where else would I be, Nigel?" She asked melodiously, joking to him.

Nigel was one of those people who never doubted her when she took over Runway six years ago. He himself had worked there before, but it was she who promoted him to art director because she recognised the talent in him and the fire that they shared. She looked at him carefully as he walked towards her with quick steps. He was dressed in a colourful shirt that screamed eighties, which was tucked under baggy light brown knickers. His black hair was combed back as always, but she guessed that in a few years he would be rid of it completely, because his hairline was already starting to recede significantly, and he was only a few years younger than her.

"I have the mock-ups you asked for." He explained quickly and walked around her desk to place a quick kiss on her cheek.

They didn't get to see each other even once that day. Preparing for one of their bigger sessions had been keeping them busy for some time. They last had lunch together over two weeks ago, which was rather unexpected for them. They will need to make another appointment as soon as possible.

"Thank you." She took the templates from him and spread them out in front of her. "This one is definitely out." She pointed to one of them immediately, in which the model looked like she was twisting in pain.

"That's what I thought, she looks like she tried to dance the lambada in the eighties after at least one pound of cocaine."

"Hmm." She purred with a smile, understanding exactly what he meant. "Well, at least the rest of them are bearable. We'll have to retake at least a few shots."

"Do we have the budget?" He asked, leaning back slightly and looking at her questioningly, placing his hand on his hip, tilting his weight to one side.

"Don't worry about it, dear, I'll take care of it." She assured and looked away from the mock-ups and looked at him, smiling slyly.

He immediately smiled back and wrinkled his nose, pointing at her with the pencil he had in his other hand.

"That's my girl." He laughed then walked around her desk and sat down on one of the chairs and looked at her for a moment with a calculating look. "So, how are the little monsters?"

Miranda gave him a dark look, though there was no actual scowl in it. She could understand where that term came from.

"Everything's fine. They've stopped crying so much, although they're still most peaceful in Greg's arms." She sighed and moved one of the stencils aside to reveal the papers she had been reading earlier. "At least he can calm them down."

Nigel smacked his lips and leaned over the desk, taking her hand in his.

"Come on, Miranda, you're an amazing mother, and you know that. You're their favourite person in the world."

"I don't think they share your sentiment." She replied bitterly and ran a hand through her hair. "Give me a few more months of their screaming and crying, and it will turn completely grey." She said while pointing at her hair.

Nigel smirked and looked at her carefully.

"You know what i think?"

"Hmm?"

"You'd rock some white hair."

"I'm home!"

The day was tiring. Miranda had to stay much longer than she thought due to complications. So many years in this business, and so far she has never had to conduct a psychological session with one of the models to make her obediently take part in the photo shoot for which she signed a contract.

She closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it, needing at least a moment of silence. She didn't even have the strength to take off her shoes, even though her feet hurt from the moment she put them on first thing in the morning. Miranda breathed deeply and closed her eyes, enjoying the silence she found.

Silence.

It was too quiet.

She opened her eyes immediately and, losing her Louis Vuitton pumps along the way, moved forward, quickly running up the stairs to the girls' room. She grabbed the handle and opened the door, only to stand there and breathe a sigh of relief. Greg sat in the chair with Cassidy in his arms and rocked her lightly — she had had a harder time falling asleep on her own. Caroline was already lying in her little bed, her chest slowly rising and falling.

Greg looked up at her and smiled warmly, and she smiled right back. He raised a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet, and she nodded and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door so that too much light wouldn't get in and accidentally wake their daughters. Greg came out after a while and closed the door slowly to make as little sound as possible and looked down at her.

She pushed herself off the wall and moved closer to him, wanting to hug him, because that was what she had been waiting for the whole way home, but Greg grabbed her wrists and took a step back.

"Greg?" She asked uncertainly and when he released her, she placed both hands on his chest. "What's wrong?"

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" He whispered, but his tone was aggressive — she hadn't heard that from him in a long time.

She tore her eyes away from his face and, lowering her arms to her sides, moved away a little. She actually didn't know.

"I-, Greg, you know how-"

"-your work is, yeah, I've heard that a million times." He spat and took two steps backwards brushing his hair with a hand. "Don't give me that bullshit again."

"Greg, please..."

"Not here." He interrupted her and, walking around her with his hands raised to make sure he didn't touch her, walked past her and walked down the stairs.

Miranda let out a shaky breath and, straightening her hair several times in a nervous tic, followed him, checking the time on her wrist as she went. It was well after 10pm.

Once downstairs, she looked around and saw light coming from the kitchen. She headed in that direction, hoping her husband wasn't so upset that they would sleep separately that night as well.

"Darling?" She called out as she walked through the doorway and saw him standing at the kitchen island, leaning on the counter with both hands.

He looked up at her and clenched his jaw.

There were so many things Miranda wanted to tell him right now. To apologise using all the words she knew in any language that was even remotely familiar to her. She had no excuse for herself, not really. Work was the reason she came home so late, yes, but she had a choice, didn't she?

She chose to stay and supervise the photo shoot because the previous few ones had not gone as they should. She chose to stay and talk to Rebecca in person, to stop being offended and get to work. She chose to see it through to the end in person.

She chose not to call her husband with the belief that he would understand, as he always did.

"How-" He stopped himself and rubbed his face with one hand, pushing himself away from the counter he was standing at with the other. "Why, Miranda? Just tell me why."

"You know why, I couldn't get out, I had to-"

"We have children, Miranda." He snapped. "We have two beautiful girls that need their mother."

"No, don't do that." She raised a finger to point at him, trying her best to ignore his trembling hand. "You knew, from the very beginning what was important for me in my life. I was honest with you, we talked about it so many-"

"So what now? Your job is more important than your kids? Is that what you're saying?"

Miranda clenched her jaw and rubbed both of her hands against the fabric of her blouse, looking nervously around the kitchen. She couldn't look at him, not when he was looking at her with such disappointment. She knew this would happen, it was only a matter of time before it would start to bother him how much of herself Miranda devoted to work and her career.

Miranda warned him that first day, when they sat in the shadows, in the last row at a fashion show in Paris, seven years younger and more beautiful. She made it clear, talked about her plans, the sacrifices she had made and planned to continue making. He was proud of her then when he introduced her as 'the future queen of fashion'. He couldn't praise her enough, his parents were over the moon when she met them, telling her later how much Greg thought of her, how much he rooted for her.

However, reality hit them between the eyes. They were older and experienced many ups and downs. The arrival of children was in some way a blessing for them, and although at first Miranda saw them as the reason to saving her marriage, she had long ago abandoned this belief. She loved these two girls with all her heart, but did having children really have to mean some sort of ultimatum given not only by her husband, but by everyone around her who always had something to say about her motherhood?

"No. No, no, no… you don't get to do that, Greg." She started, feeling that she was losing control of her voice and speaking faster and faster. "You don't get to say things like that just because I have a demanding job. Don't blame me for the fact that only one of us is professionally fulfilled."

Oh, she knew it was low. She knew it the moment she said it but it was too late. He hurt her with his words, his accusations, which he threw around right and left, as if he didn't know what it was really about. Miranda felt like a cornered animal, terrified of what this argument could lead to and what it really meant for them. Like a dog — when she was afraid, she would start barking and biting. She couldn't concentrate and apologize, it wasn't her. The only solution she knew was to attack. This was how it was in her home since she was a little girl, and also in her adult life.

"Can you hear yourself?" He screamed, but quickly closed his eyes and took a breath to calm himself when he saw her jump slightly in place, startled by his outburst. He returned to whispering; "I'm talking about you being out of the house constantly, Miranda. If I'm not enough of a husband in your eyes, then you're sure as fuck not enough of a mother in mine."

Miranda was so frustrated that she was already on the verge of tears. It was the kind of anger where she wanted to scream, break something, or throw. She felt helpless and useless, as she rocked Caroline in her arms, and couldn't calm her down. She's tried everything. Both girls were fed, bathed and dressed for bed. Miranda knew that she owed Nigel a big favour, although he swore it was nothing, but thanks to him she was able to get home much earlier.

Things had been better between her and Greg, especially since the last fight that had left her with uncertainty and fear that her family, which she had worked as hard as she could, would fall apart. The word 'divorce' had never been uttered between them before, no matter what it was about or how much they argued. This time, Greg insinuated that maybe it would be better if they spent some time apart.

Miranda didn't want to be apart — she wanted to be together no matter what the obstacles.

That's why she apologized, promising that she would change and put her work aside. She had no choice but to listen to him and fulfil his wish. She felt terrible about how much difficulty it had caused her. She slowly began to believe his words that she didn't care or love him or their daughters. Miranda denied it outright, not only to save their marriage, but because she knew deep in her heart that it wasn't the case. However, it all came down to choices, and Miranda didn't have that many of them, so she decided to create them for herself.

A month had passed, and she was still keeping her word, even though she knew her work was suffering and Nigel was finishing many of her tasks. She was eternally grateful to him for this and hoped that she would be able to repay him with interest.

Now, rocking from left to right in the living room of her house before 4 pm, she felt like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Nothing she did was helping, and she was running out of ideas. Caroline started crying almost immediately after Greg went out to the store to buy a bottle of wine for them, since they finally had the evening to themselves. Miranda only turned around for a moment before the little girl managed to hit her head on the hard back of the chair as she decided to move from one toy to another.

"Come on, Bobbsey, don't cry, okay? Mommy's here." She whispered in a now wet voice to the baby and put her mouth to her little head, closing her own eyes tightly.

She had enough, and felt as if she was failing as a mother, but also feared she was failing as editor-in-chief of Runway. She heard what people said about one aspect of her life and another. Everyone had a lot to say and sometimes seemed to know more than she did.

Her own daughters didn't like her, as if she were a stranger, but how could they otherwise when they barely knew her? It was her husband who was with them almost all the time. He talked to them and hugged them. Miranda was horrified by the idea that the girls' nanny spent so much more time with them than she did. It was her idea to hire Leslie so that Greg could finally go back to work. That didn't stop the remorse and guilt from haunting her every night.

"Please, please, please..." She whispered again and again, her lips still on Caroline's forehead.

She walked slowly to the chair, feeling her arms slowly begin to ache. She sat down in it, placing the little girl on her lap and took a few deep breaths to calm down. Miranda didn't want to be nervous around them, much less at them. The last thing she wanted for her children was to grow up with shouting and arguments, because she knew how it affected her own childhood. If she was able to avoid such negative emotions in the presence of the girls, then that was what she was going to do.

However, this did not change the fact that everyone had their limits. She was always convinced that sooner or later every person will crack. Some people, when they got angry, immediately exploded, shouting out everything that was weighing on their souls and hearts. Miranda belonged to the latter group of people. She accumulated it all inside herself, suffocated it, and finally there was an eruption equal to that of a volcano. Listening to her baby cry and not being able to calm her down was one of those things that drove her crazy, not only because of the pain in her ears, but mainly because of her anger at herself.

"Miranda?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at Greg, who was standing in the living room entrance, surprised, with a bottle of wine in a bag. When he came to, from his first impression, he quickly put his purchases down on the nearest armchair and, with long three steps, walked over and crouched down in front of them. He touched Caroline's head with one hand and stroked Miranda's cheek with the other.

"Hey, that's okay, shh..." He began to whisper slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife, and at the same time, he took their daughter from her and slowly started rocking her back and forth.

As soon as the opportunity arose, Miranda jumped up from her chair, and she sniffled, pressing her trembling hand firmly to her mouth. She stood a few steps away and surveyed the scene before her; how well Greg dealt with her daughter, how he was able to calm her down in a matter of moments when she had been struggling for over fifteen minutes. She squeezed her eyes shut again and turned her back so as not to see her defeat any longer, and placed her other hand on her hip.

She didn't know how long it took for the silence to return, but she woke up from the strange trance she was in only when she felt Greg's large and warm hands wrap around her stomach. As soon as she felt how close he was behind her, she let him hold her and leaned fully against his chest, tilting her head as well, and covering his hands with hers.

"I'm such a terrible mother, Greg." She whispered after a while and felt a sob escape from her throat and only then did she realize that she had been crying. "I can't even calm down my own daughter, it's-"

"Hey, look at me." He whispered, placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and pulled away slightly, so she could turn towards him. "You're an amazing mom, Miranda, it's just not your day."

She laughed bitterly and rested her forehead just below his neck, running her hands from his stomach up.

"It's not just today, and you know it." She denied it and shook her head slightly, sniffing again.

"Miranda, my love." Oh, he didn't called her that for such long time now. He placed both hands on her cheeks and lifted her head to look into her eyes and wipe away the leaking tears with his thumbs. "Everything will be all right, okay? We'll be all right, you just need to be patient."

Something in his eyes made her believe him immediately.

She climbed the stairs very slowly, hoping that Greg was already asleep and not waiting for her. The benefit she had to go to turned out to be a much bigger success than she expected, and she had to stay. She looked into the bedroom first and was somewhat relieved to see her husband sleeping peacefully. His mouth was slightly ajar as usual, and he was snoring lightly as he lay on his back. He must have removed the covers while he slept, because his bare chest shimmered in the reflected moonlight and rose slowly, rhythmically. Miranda wanted to come in and lie down right next to him. She was tired, even exhausted. It was long after midnight, and she felt dirty, saturated with the smell of champagne and perfume from all the people she had to talk to that night. But something stopped her as she tried to take the first step and, following her instincts, she closed the door again and took two steps back.

She turned slowly and walked two rooms away. Her hand hovered over the doorknob, and she felt stress settle in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed it, made her decision and went inside before she had time to change her mind.

Their two daughters slept next to each other. They wanted to slowly teach them to be able to be apart at least at night, but she and Greg decided they didn't have the heart to separate them. As long as the twins needed to be together, they decided to allow it.

She walked inside on almost shaky legs and walked over to their bed, at first wanting to sit on the other one, which was empty and cold right next to it. However, she decided that she needed a different kind of closeness that night. Slowly, at a glancial pace so that it was hard for her to keep her balance, she walked over to the two sleeping children and sat down on the floor next to them, resting her body on the edge of the bed as her other hand rested on her bent knees. Miranda rested her head on her shoulder and looked silently at her sleeping daughters.

There were more and more moments when she just wanted to look at them for a long time and without interruption. As if she had never seen anything or anyone more beautiful — most likely she had not. She breathed deeply, matching her breathing with theirs, and watched as they took turns wrinkling their little noses when something must have happened in their dreams. She listened to the occasional grunt or sigh.

After a while, Cassidy moved, even jumped up, and opened her eyes, and Miranda's heart almost broke at the amount of fear she saw in her little daughter's eyes.

"Shh, baby, Mommy's here." She whispered, although she felt the stress slowly creeping up on her again, because she was afraid that her presence would only make her cry.

The girl blinked slowly and looked at her, although it took her a moment to recognize her. Miranda stopped breathing for a moment, waiting for a reaction. Cassidy, on the other hand, huffed and rubbed one of her eyelids with her small fist.

"M-momma?" She whispered, and Miranda, holding back the sob that was trying to escape her, sniffled and moved closer, nodding her head again and again.

"Yes, Bobbsey." She replied quietly so as not to wake the other twin and smiled widely, unable to fully control her body. "Yes, it's me."

Cassidy looked at her for a moment until she finally leaned in to grab Miranda's hand and pulled her closer to her, causing her to have to scoot even more. The last thing Miranda was thinking about was that she was rolling her Versace evening gown on the ground.

"Sleepy." She mumbled and kept looking at her mother with a kind of expectation in her eyes, as if Miranda would make all the nightmares disappear from her dreams forever. Maybe she could.

"I'll stay right here, okay?" Miranda asked because even though the girls were only two years old, she lacked confidence with no one else as much as she did with them.

Cassidy nodded a few times, but didn't even try to close her eyes. Miranda wasn't sure where the idea came from, but she took a long, deep breath and began humming quietly one of the lullabies she remembered from the days when she had terrible dreams and her grandmother stayed with her at night, holding her by the hand.

She hummed a calm melody, sometimes adding the words she remembered and omitting the rest. Cassidy didn't seem to mind, because her eyelids quickly became heavy again, and she soon fell back to sleep. Miranda finished the lullaby to herself, knowing that the girl was already in another land in her mind, and placed her head on her outstretched arm again, unable to move it from under the child's strong grip.

At that moment she realized that she didn't want to. She continued to look at one daughter, then at the other, and for the first time she felt complete peace, caused solely by the fact that she was simply there with them. She couldn't stop looking at them, observing their smallest movements, listening to the quietest sounds. Spotting the slightest differences between them. Miranda at that moment realised how strong the feeling was inside her and how good and pure it was. She loved these two little toddlers with all her body, heart and soul, and she swore to herself that she would do everything to protect them from anything that would come their way in the future.

She may not have been the best mother, she was aware of it, but in that one night, which she would surely spend in an evening gown on the floor next to her children's bed, she realized what she had. The desire to return to her own bedroom, to be next to her husband disappeared immediately. From the first look she exchanged with Cassidy, just a few minutes ago, she knew where she would be spending most of the night. They were all she needed.

Only them and nothing more.

Chapter Text

"So? How'd you like it?" Andy rose from Nate's shoulder and looked at him questioningly.

It was Monday — the big day had finally arrived. Andy was in the office first thing in the morning to make all the calls she needed to make and send out the last e-mails that couldn't wait any longer. She and Emily went to the museum to make sure everything was done correctly and made any final touches necessary. Since she wasn't scheduled to attend the Met Gala, she was able to get home much sooner than usual. She happily said goodbye to Emily, who was turning greener and greener with each passing minute, and it was only a matter of time until she vomited and couldn't swallow even a cube of cheese.

Miranda was there too, and Andy, despite having had peace of mind throughout the weekend thanks to their last conversation, was still apprehensive about how their next interaction would go. Fortunately, her boss recovered and there was no more silence or awkwardness between them. At one point Andy felt like she had to rub her eyes when she saw Miranda pull up in her car right up to the red carpet and slowly wave her hand at the people across the street shouting her name. PR was in bloom.

Nate sighed and shrugged, looking at her and giving her a crooked smile.

Andy, since she came back sooner and was in a excellent mood, suggested that they watch a movie together. Nate agreed right away, even though she could tell right away that something was wrong. However, she decided not to torment herself about it, coming to the conclusion that she would not force herself to nit-pick.

"It's all right." He replied, nodding his head slightly and taking his eyes off her for a moment to glance at the screen, which was now showing the end credits.

Andy felt her jaw drop, although there was still a smile in her expression that made it clear that she wasn't actually that angry about the fact that her boyfriend apparently had terrible taste in movies.

"What? It's such a classic! It's-" She was perplexed.

Nate stood up, completely ignoring the shock she was feeling at that moment, and walked around her and headed to the kitchen.

Andy sighed and reached for her phone on the table out of habit, even though she wasn't really expecting any messages unless there was a fire at the Met Gala. She glanced at Nate for a moment and bit her lip slightly, wondering if she wanted to actually watch some of the event. She wasn't particularly interested in what the celebrities, most of whom she didn't even know, were going to wear that year, but she had put so much work and effort into making sure everything went well that she deserved at least a little of the end result.

Having made the decision, she got up from the couch and quickly went to the bedroom, feeling stressed for a reason completely unknown to her. She stood at the bedside table and hesitated for a moment, but shook her head slightly in shock that she was even considering it and set her alarm for 5pm — half an hour before the start. She had two whole hours to convince Nate to watch at least the first twenty minutes to make sure she wouldn't ruin their evening.

"Nate!" She called out as she left the room, sure her boyfriend would be still in the kitchen, but she didn't find him there. "Nate?" She repeated and stood in the middle of the apartment, nervous.

"What's up?" He asked coming out of the bathroom and looked at her questioningly, looking like he was in a hurry.

"Oh, I wanted to ask you if... are you going somewhere?" Andy stopped her own questions when she saw Nate start to put on his shoes and reach for his jacket. She was also pretty sure he had sprayed himself with cologne.

"Yeah, I told you I'm meeting with guys from work." He replied loosely and looking in the mirror again, he flipped his hair from side to side. "How do I look?"

"Umm." She honestly had no idea what she should say. "Great, yeah, I don't think you- I thought that today we were supposed to stay together... here."

"Sorry, baby, but I had this planned with them a long time ago. Fred got engaged, and we're going to celebrate."

"Well, okay..." Andy thought for a moment that she should offer to go with him, but she didn't dare say it out loud, for fear that he would say 'yes'.

He smiled at her reassuringly when he noticed the confusion on her face and took a few steps forward and kissed her quickly before turning around without another word and leaving, slamming the door behind him.

Andy stood there for what seemed like at least five minutes. She waved both hands and tapped them on her thighs and finally shrugged. She waited a while and grabbed her phone and keys from the table, and the went to put on sneakers and tied her hair in a random ponytail and left the apartment while dialling Nigel's number.

"Good afternoon, Six, you miss me already?"

She rolled her eyes and chuckled to herself as she pushed open the front door to her staircase and stepped outside. She turned left and started walking at a leisurely pace.

"I'm calling to ask you what you want to drink today. I'm just going to buy some alcohol for us." She explained and stopped at the traffic lights at a pedestrian crossing.

It was enough that she ran like a madwoman around the city during working hours.

"Oh, well..." Andy was afraid she wouldn't have time to get to the store, go back, and go there again before Nigel placed his order. "Buy some whiskey, that's for sure, and maybe…"

He literally sounded as if he was picking some clothes for the shoot.

"Today would be preferable, Nige."

"Sassy you are, my dear. You're starting to even sound like her." He teased.

"Nope, we're not going there." She had been cutting it off since their last conversation. Nigel had made up his mind that Andy and Miranda were some kind of weird soulmates.

Apparently they were similar — Andy had no clue where that came from.

He joked about it all the time and it couldn't be possibly more annoying than it already was. Especially since Andy still hasn't processed her last conversation with Doug, who, as always, completely confused her. The idea of ​​having a potential crush on Miranda was so absurd that she began to wonder if she actually had one.

It even got to the point where she read the definition of the word on three different websites.

"How about some vodka?" She suggested it because these thoughts made her want to drink heavier alcohol.

"Vodka? We're not teenagers, well, I’m not."

"Okay then, I'll take a tequila, and we'll take a shot for every disappointing outfit, how does that sound?"

"Now you're talking." He laughed, and she finally moved forward as the light turned green. "Have you looked already for some of those magazines we talked about?"

Andy suddenly slowed down, not understanding what he meant, but then she remembered and slapped her forehead with her hand.

"Oh shit! No! I totally forgot about that! Have you?"

"No, I decided that I need to share my first reaction with someone else. Don't worry, I'll bring them and after the Met we'll look through it."

"Sure, sounds great. Umm, Nigel?" She started hesitantly because she had no idea how to ask this question.

Nigel was an open person with new people, so she hoped he wouldn't have a problem if she invited Doug too. She knew he had no plans for today, and he watched the Met Gala every year, so she might as well do it with them both on her couch.

Suddenly the fact that Nate left was getting better and better.

"What do you need this time? I don't have a dress that would be suitable for your apartment."

She rolled her eyes and turned left at the next street corner.

"Ha, ha, very funny. I wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me inviting my friend. He’s really fun, big fun of Runway and of the Met, so he’ll take the shots with us for sure."

"Sure, no problem for me here."

"Great, thanks!"

They talked for a while, but when she entered the store, she hung up, promising not to buy the cheapest alcohol. So she chose the second cheapest, and paid quickly, and her ego was pleasantly stroked when she was asked for ID.

Andy was only twenty-six, but sometimes she felt much older. The purple, dark circles under her eyes also didn't help her image as a young woman.

With the bag of alcohol in one hand, she switched her phone to the other and sent a quick text to Doug with the invitation. She was counting on him to come, and she hoped that they both — Nigel and Doug — would come to an agreement together, because currently she felt that they were the closest people to her.

She didn't want to think about the fact that Nate wasn't even in the top three right now.

Almost two hours later she stood in the kitchen preparing snacks for them all. She washed the glasses and prepared everything on the table in front of the sofa; some popcorn, crisps and Cheetos.

That'll have to do.

The alarm clock suddenly went off in her bedroom, startling her slightly. She completely forgot that she had turned it on, but it turned out to be a good decision, otherwise she would have forgotten to turn on the TV. She went quickly and turned off the annoying sound, making sure for it not to turn on again later, and returned to the living room, reaching for the remote control, searching for the appropriate channel.

She wondered what it would be like to be there. Andy wasn't a fan of these benefits and galas, but she felt like this was where she should be right now. Not at home, in a tracksuit, with a drink in hand in front of the TV. Nevertheless, she was happy about the evening that awaited them. She had a good feeling about their little party, and she was almost completely sure that Nigel and Doug would get along.

There was a knock on the door and, grabbing a crisp on the way, she stuffed it into her mouth and ran to let the first guest in.

"The staircase couldn't be uglier." Nigel announced as soon as she opened the door and gave her a sly smile.

She rolled her eyes at him and moved out of the way to let him in. Nigel walked past her and placed a welcoming kiss on her cheek before walking fully inside.

"Shoes?"

"You don't have to." She waved her hand because she couldn't remember the last time she actually washed the floor here, and she didn't think Nate would do it on his own.

"Oh my, I'll walk out of here twenty pounds heavier." He stated, sitting on the couch and immediately grabbing a handful of popcorn. "So where is the other one?"

"He'll be a little late, so don't worry." She assured and walked over to the kitchen counter, reaching for the rest of the things she had prepared. She opened two cabinets, looking for a mixer for drinks, which she would surely make later. "Do you have the magazines?"

"Yes, everything right here!" He answered from the living room and when she glanced at him, she saw that he had already started exploring and looking at everything.

She might have expected it.

They talked a little more sitting opposite to each other on the couch, waiting for the commercials to come to an end. Doug texted her that he was on his way and should be there within a few minutes.

Andy couldn't stop herself from quickly running to the bathroom to text Emily, asking if everything was okay. Of course, she didn't expect an answer within a few seconds, but a small part of her hoped that the redhead would call soon and let her know. If necessary, she would be happy to help with anything she could, and she didn't have to worry about the dress with Nigel right next to her if she had to show up at the event.

"Stop fidgeting." Nigel said, an Andy turned sharply to him, immediately stopping the quick and jerky movements of her leg that she hadn't even been aware of before. "I know you'd prefer to be there but you're not, deal with it."

"I wouldn't-" She stopped herself — there was no point in arguing.

"Yhym." He grunted and leaned over to grab a glass of whiskey from the table.

Andy checked the time and saw that there were only a few minutes left before the start. Time has probably never been so long for her as it is now. The last thing she ever expected was to wait impatiently for the fashion event to start.

Still, it somehow made more sense than she would admit.

"I'm here! I'm here!" Doug called from the entrance and slammed the door behind him. "Sorry, ladies, I had trouble getting out of the house, and then I had an argument with a guy on the subway who was picking on a girl. I ended up going three stops too far." Doug told them the whole story while unpacking more bottles of alcohol from the backpack he had brought with him, until he finally approached them. "I also brought us some pizza."

He placed the box on the table in front of them and sat down in the armchair next to the couch.

Andy was kind of shocked at how quickly the two of them got along. They found a common language almost immediately, and sometimes she even felt like she was the one to third-wheel. She didn't have a problem with that though, because she was staring at the TV screen anyway, feeling a strange feeling in her stomach, although she had no idea why. Throughout the preparations for the Met Gala, she approached it with distance, treating it like any other task to be performed. She did her part by being a side observer of the chaos and excitement of her colleagues, who seemed to be counting down the days to the first Monday in May from the moment the Met Gala ended last year. That's most likely what happened.

She, however, took it all in stride. She was familiar with the topic, understood the concept and the reason why it was all happening at all. Andy was even able to understand the excitement and expectations for the creations that were about to appear. Still, she hadn't been looking forward to it that much this whole time like now.

The music changed, trailers for rather mediocre movies stopped playing, and instead the screen showed a high view of the tent in front of the Metropolitan Museum. After a while, two presenters appeared on the screen with microphones, dressed in tartan.

"Oh, that's just predictable." Doug stated and Andy didn't even notice that the two guys had stopped talking to each other and were also focusing on the screen.

"Shot time!" Nigel announced and everyone obediently followed suit.

It took them a few minutes to announce the event and give a general description of what was going on, and Andy felt like she was almost sitting on the edge of the couch. A few more shots of the press lining up along the wide stairs until they finally announced the co-chairs' entrance.

The cameras focused on the bottom of the stairs, the screams of people intensified, as did the blinding camera flares that now began to flash at a deadly rate. If Andy were there, she would definitely go blind from their intensity. She held her breath as the other two people she only knew existed because Miranda had mentioned them once or twice.

The atmosphere changed as everyone's voices quieted for a moment, as if waiting for something greater. But it only lasted a few seconds before everything hit again with a vengeance and Miranda appeared at the foot of the stairs, still standing with her back to the cameras, waving to the screaming people in the street. Andy grabbed the remote and turned the volume up a few notches while ignoring the questioning look she got from Doug.

As Miranda turned around and her dress could finally be seen, the earlier excitement that had been bubbling in her belly now settled much lower and there seemed to slowly increase her body temperature.

"I knew it!" Nigel whispered and took a preventive shot, probably congratulating himself on winning the bet in his own head. "I knew she would choose Vivienne from ninety-two."

"Shhh!" Andy hissed and was now almost falling off the couch.

She would never be able to describe the outfit Miranda was wearing well enough. There was no word to describe what she was seeing and how that made her feel. The dress was black, made of more than one material. The transparent tulle wrapped her in a thin layer right up to the jaw, leaving some looseness only in the shoulders, which were slightly stiffer and gave volume and a kind of fluff to the entire outfit. If it weren't for them, the dress would have been considered too bold and inappropriate for Miranda's status. The upper part of her body was almost entirely on display, except for a darkening around her breasts that blurred across her back, making the woman appear naked beneath those thin layers. The lower Andy's eyes went, watching every move, the more the material began to hide. It flowed around Miranda's waist and hips like a second skin, which was black as pitch with not only tulle, but also feathers that trailed behind her with each slow step she took. Higher and higher up the stairs, smiling at each of the cameras and stopping now and then to pose for a photo. The only colour in the entire outfit were burgundy pumps, with a lining that looked like it was made of light birch wood. Miranda's hair shimmered in the light of cameras. It was slightly slicked at the back, but the front hugged her face in a gentle wave, curling at the ends.

She elevated the hairstyle Andy complimented that one time.

Miranda looked otherworldly. There was no doubt that this red carpet was exactly where she belonged and she owned it with every fiber of her body. Every little movement she made, was thought out, making the dress the star of the show. It wasn’t that the dress was wearing her, and only now Andy fully understood what that meant — nobody else in her eyes could wear that kind of gown and not get lost in it. Miranda looked like a a true queen. The almost painfully slow pace was perfect for how she wanted to show off the dress. The black feathers were hugging her, shimmering in light, making her look like the most beautiful fallen angel. The tulle was around her like a dark fog, as if she were the very embodiment of a darkness in the, well, sexiest way possible.

"Wow." Andy sighed, not even realising she had made a sound, and blinked a few times as the cameras focused on the next person entering and Miranda disappeared inside the museum.

She cleared her throat and straightened slightly, still not looking up at either Nigel or Doug, because she knew exactly what she would see in their eyes. What scared her more now was that they would both see in her face what she had so vehemently denied.

She did have a crush, damn it.

It's been two weeks.

Every single day Andy woke up with a feeling of guilt that seemed to fade away every time she bought her first coffee at the Starbucks across from the Elias-Clarke building. The problem, however, was that whenever she turned the key in the door to her apartment in the evenings, the sucking feeling returned.

Doug said it's normal to become a little obsessed with people who are older, who sets some kind of example. Miranda was almost twenty years older than her, still, she didn't look a day, let's say thirty-

Whatever. Not that she cared.

The point was that Andy, even though she had finally come to terms with it, was counting down the days until it would run out. The moment she would start looking at Miranda again as her unbearably demanding boss would, for sure, be the day her life would return to its former colours. The desire to discover a completely new colour palette did not matter here. She was fine the way she was, and the crisis with Nate could be resolved, no matter what Doug told her. You didn't give up on love, no matter how hard it was. Call her mindless romantic, but Andy believed in it with all her heart.

She was convinced that this crush thing was only temporary precisely because her relationship with Nate was in an unstable place. It's no wonder that, in a way, everything that had been directed towards her boyfriend began to flow towards the white-haired older woman. Not everything, of course, what happened to her was just a desire to be fulfilled in the eyes of her — exactly like Doug said. Nate became cold and stopped trying, so Andy kind of gave up too, because while she wanted to be with him and loved him, she didn't want to be the only one fighting for their future together. Now their relationship was more just a habit of being used to each other's presence than anything remotely romantic.

She wasn't that surprised about Miranda. These few conversations, which were on much nicer ground than Andy was used to, gave her a lot of joy. She felt appreciated and trustworthy, because if the Miranda Priestly took the time to talk to her and, in a sense, allowed her to meet the most important people in her life, Andy must have had something in her. The greatest reward, however, was the smile at the end of the day that Andy began to receive from her, knowing that none of the other Emilys had ever received one. Not because she was better than all of them — she was — but because it seemed special, with something hidden in Miranda's eyes that was reserved only for her.

It was all a logical explanation for her momentary obsession, but she was less than more okay with that.

The elevator doors opened and Andy walked briskly towards her desk. She smoothly passed all the hangers in the aisle, although her step lacked the usual confidence she had become accustomed to since Nigel had turned her wardrobe upside down. Instead, she felt the old Andy slipping away from the depths of her memories. Although she was always a 'go-getter', deep inside she felt complexes and doubts about herself. She had always had glimpses of whom she currently was and how she presented herself, a prime example of which was her job interview with Miranda. She just started looking the part and it made it that easier.

Being an object of desire was never on her list of priorities. She was aware of how she used to look and had no problem with it then. Nate had fallen in love with the old version of her, Andy, who always waited until others had finished talking to try to speak, with her too loud laugh and ugly clothes. Maybe that was the problem, she thought. She became a self-confident, successful woman who began to attract the attention of others. She didn't need him to defend her and constantly assure her that she was attractive — she didn't fight for his attention as much any more because she didn't feel like she needed it to feel good about herself. Nigel showed her that she was more than average and for that she was eternally grateful to him.

"Hi, Em!" She called cheerfully and entered Miranda's office first, placing coffee on her desk.

"Hi." The redhead replied in a bored tone, although Andy knew that at this point it was just a feeble attempt at keeping up the game, that Emily had an incredible dislike for her. "You're in an achingly good mood today. Is that Valentino?"

"Yup." She replied as she walked back to their part of the office and set her purse on the shelf below the desk where it was out of sight of people passing by. "Jealous?"

She snorted. "You wish."

Andy smirked and fired up her computer, then went into the kitchen to get some cold water for Miranda.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she felt a slight tightening in her stomach, knowing it was a text from Roy. She quickly left the kitchen and set the water aside in Miranda's office, then opened the door leading to theirs office segment, grabbing her notebook as she went.

"Three minutes, guys!" She announced, and with the accompaniment of quickened footsteps and the shuffling of a thousand spread papers and mock-ups, she closed the door behind her and headed back towards the exit.

The elevator rang and Andy cleared her throat and looked down, trying to control her smile.

"Good morning, Miranda!"

"I need skirts from Gucci." She just went right in. "Twenty-five at least. You'll go to Calvin Klein later and you'll take another ten dresses from them that they were supposed to send yesterday, remember to not talk with Liz, I'm sure you remember her." The terms 'useless and unattractive' buzzed in her head, so she nodded, still following Miranda.

After writing everything down, she took Miranda's coat and her purse and quickly hung them up in the closet and sat down at her desk.

"Get me Isaac." Miranda's voice came to them and Andy was already reaching for the phone when Emily waved at her that she was already on the call.

"Andrea." Andy stood up ready to do whatever Miranda asked, reaching for her notebook.

It was already evening and apart from a few employees, Andy and Miranda were the last people in the office. She knew that theoretically she didn't have to wait until her boss decided to come home, but she didn't want to leave her there alone. She much preferred to spend this time together with her, even if they were not in sight. Andy assumed that her mere presence was enough.

She stood at her desk and raised her eyebrows slightly, waiting for further instructions.

"I talked with Nigel." Miranda started slowly, still not looking up at her, as she finished signing the papers spread out on her table.

Andy swallowed hard.

After watching the Met, she and the boys sat in a circle, carefully looking through all the magazines Nigel had brought, looking for articles or shoots that might have been stolen. To say they found a lot of it was a huge understatement. Yes, many words were changed, but there were some sentences that even Andy remembered from meetings she attended and were quoted by their team.

"Andrea..." Miranda started slowly and took off her glasses and looked at her finally with tired eyes. "I need you to contact our lawyer. Whoever did this, once we find out, we need legal help to face the consequences."

"I already talked with Mr. Molo about it, and he's aware of the situation and is waiting for us being ready to start action."

Miranda clenched her jaw and stared at her for a moment, until she finally let out a sharp breath and raised her eyebrows as she glanced at the paper on her desk again.

"Of course, you did."

Andy wasn't sure how she should interpret this. After all, that was exactly what Miranda wanted, and the fact that steps had already been taken was good news, wasn't it? She had often reacted faster than Miranda would be able to give her another task, but until now the woman didn't even seem to notice. Probably accepting it as the natural order of things.

"Sit." Miranda said suddenly, interrupting Andy's racing thoughts.

Obediently, she sat down and placed the notebook on her lap, holding it with both hands. Her back was straight, although her head was slightly bowed, with a question written on her face as Miranda looked deep in thought. Whatever it was, Andy decided she would do anything to help.

"Cassidy."

Miranda fixed her with a hard stare that Andy couldn't read. Her boss's eyes were firmly focused on Andy's face, as if studying her, calculating whether continuing the conversation even made sense. Her eyes, the usual blue, now took on a distinct shade that seemed downright sharp at the edges. Finally, Miranda blinked and within a second, her expression softened, returning to her natural expression as if she had made a decision.

Andy didn't say a word, not wanting to discourage her, but she hoped her own eyes showed nothing but patience and a desire to help.

"Apparently she likes talking to you."

"I really like talking with her too." Andy whispered, not sure any words would be appropriate right now. The topic of her children was so delicate and private for the woman that one bad word was enough to reveal the side of Miranda, the legends of which had been spreading from ear to ear on the streets of New York for many years.

"Yes." She cleared her throat and broke eye contact as she shuffled the two pieces of paper, although she didn't actually change their position. As if she just needed something to keep her hands busy. "How-, how is she?"

Andy only had a second to control her face. This question was the last one she expected. Why would she know this better than Miranda? Has their relationship been so fragile and strained since Cassidy's last doing that she didn't talk to her mother about anything? Andy immediately realised how uncomfortable Miranda must have felt as she verbally admitted such weakness, once again inviting her assistant to the most private and closest matter to her heart.

She bit her cheek for a moment, praying in her head that her eyes wouldn't betray the questions that were blooming in her head.

"She's okay." She started slowly, afraid to say even one wrong word. "She's, umm, I guess she needs some time process what happened."

She licked her upper lip with her tongue, catching Andy's eye with a gesture for a second before returning to eye contact. Miranda nodded, cleared her throat, and straightened up, smoothing her hair and patting it lightly at the back.

Andy was mesmerized. Of course, the situation was delicate, but she couldn't shake the thought that she had never seen this side of Miranda before. Showing stress in such an expressive way.

Any insight she had gathered about Miranda as a mother vanished into thin air at that moment. This one gesture was enough for Andy to realise what kind of parent her boss actually was and how many insecurities were hidden inside her.

"Well…"

"I'll tell you when she'll be ready to talk." Andy interrupted her, hoping it wouldn't be taken the wrong way, because all she wanted was to spare Miranda the need to say the words out loud.

She finally understood it without them.

Miranda opened her mouth to say something, but ended up pursing it and inhaling loudly through her nose and nodding her head, pushing away from the desk and standing up, letting her know it was time to go home, especially since the Book had already arrived some time ago.

Andy followed her lead and gave Miranda a smile that she hoped didn't seem comforting, but instead genuine and neutral.

'Thank you' was written all over Miranda's face in bold letters, so there was really no need to say it out loud.

"Get in." She said once again as they stood by the silver Mercedes and Andy held the door open for Miranda.

She nodded obediently and biting her lip slightly, she walked around the car, ran the last two steps and got inside. Roy smiled at her in the mirror, which she happily returned, but she couldn't help but glance at Miranda at least briefly.

She still looked tired.

The car moved from place with a slight jerk. Miranda rested her head lightly against the window and closed her eyes, although she still tapped one finger on her lap as if she were counting down the seconds until she would be home. Andy didn't want them to have to go out of their way especially for her, so catching Roy's gaze, she whipped her head at Miranda and hoped she was giving him a clear enough look. He nodded, so he probably understood, because after a while they started driving in the other direction.

Roy closed the privacy glass after a moment, ignoring Andy's questioning look; Nobody said anything, so why?

However, she didn't spend too much time on this thought, instead, settling comfortably in her chair, she looked at the buildings they passed and the night-life of the city. People stood outside bars laughing and smoking cigarettes with drinks in their hands. Some people sat quietly in restaurants, whether on a date or a late business meeting. Families were leaving the theatres, little children still with popcorn in their hands. There were also those who only went out for an evening walk with their dogs, or those who, slightly hunched, returned home tired after work, looking for keys in their backpacks or handbags. These were things that Andy was kind of missing. In the past, she would be the one with her friends at this time in one of the restaurants they passed, laughing loudly and most likely eating a burger and drinking cheap beer. However, these times were over. There was a transformation in her not only in terms of clothes, but she felt that somewhere along the way something in herself had changed as well.

She looked back at her Valentino dress, which she knew looked really good in, and wondered at what point she had started to really care about it all. Because that's what it was; at first it was a matter of fitting in, but her interest blossomed naturally. Even though she would never love it as much as Emily did, she learned to see and live in its beauty and, above all, appreciate it.

A return to old habits sometimes lurked in the recesses of her mind. The desire to return to the old, easier times was not unknown to her, and sometimes she was filled with doubts.

She looked up from the bottom seam of her dress and let it slip from her hand. She turned her head to the right and gasped softly when she saw that Miranda had fallen asleep.

She watched the woman in silent shock, taking in every little outline of her face with her eyes. Her head shook slightly as the car moved. Her usually brilliant blue eyes were now closed, her long, thick and painted eyelashes standing out clearly against her pale skin that shimmered with the colours of the city they were driving through. The lips were finally not pursed, instead the corners turned slightly down in a relaxed expression. Miranda's hands were folded between her joined legs, their knees resting against the door. Her chest rose slowly with each breath she took.

At that moment, Andy remembered how the woman had looked two weeks ago on the first day of May, when she was climbing the high stairs lined with a red carpet. The difference between what she looked like then and now was indescribable. There was no longer a successful woman who posed for photos in front of thousands of cameras, aware of exactly who she was. Instead, there was someone completely innocent and calm, but also defenceless in a way. She no longer looked like the Miranda Priestly, a woman whose life seemed to be wonderful, sprinkled with money and beautiful clothes, but the most ordinary version of herself, who was tired of the fast pace of the next day.

She looked beautiful, Andy realised, and she meant that as the absolute truth that it was. She felt a sudden urge to tell it to her, because while Miranda was certainly aware of her charm, she would definitely want to hear it… but maybe not from her assistant.

"You looked really beautiful that night." Andy whispered because she wouldn't be able to say it to her face, and she wouldn't be able to keep it to herself.

Saying that about a sleeping Miranda was not something she would ever be able to say out loud either. It seemed too private to share with the woman who was none other than her boss.

Andy realized at that moment that despite missing her old life and the memories she would sometimes like to go back to and relive, there was no other place she would rather be right now. She tore her eyes away from Miranda, realizing she shouldn't be observing her like that, and went back to looking at the lives of the people they passed and who didn't make her feel warm inside. It was a much safer option.

Thanks to this, she didn't notice that the corners of Miranda's mouth lifted slightly, because, in fact, she wasn't sleeping at all.

Andy ran to the table where her ringing phone lay with only one shoe on her foot. She wasn't sure how she did it, but she didn't hear the alarm, so she woke up at 9am startled, because her body seemed to have sensed the unusual amount of sleep.

"Yes, I know! I'll be there in five minutes, I'm already getting off the subway." She answered out of breath, not even looking at who was calling, and ran to put on her other shoe.

"I need you to come to the town house."

Andy froze in place as Miranda's voice rang through her earpiece — she was convinced it would be Emily calling to scream at her. She moved the phone away from her ear to look at the screen and then put it back.

"Y-yes, of course, do you need me to take something from the office?"

"No."

The line went dead.

Andy swallowed and tossed the phone on the door stand and bent to put on the shoe that wouldn't put on itself. She straightened up, grabbed her purse, keys and phone, and closed the door behind her, running out into the street. To her surprise, a silver Mercedes was waiting for her with Roy at the wheel. Without thinking too long, she jumped into the front passenger seat and began to fasten her seat belt as the car started moving.

"How did you know I was here?" Andy asked, setting her purse at her feet and straightening her hair. "How do I look?"

Roy laughed and leaned against the door with one hand, while holding the steering wheel with the other.

"Lookin' great, Andy. She first called Emily to send you to her house, but when she found out you weren't there yet, she immediately told me to go get you."

The question of why Miranda didn't call her from the very beginning, stayed silent on her lips. Andy nodded and took a deep breath as she adjusted the seat belt one last time. She felt strange sitting in the front; being usually in the back seat with Miranda, so now the car seemed much smaller than it actually was.

She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Emily to let her know she was on her way, then put it back in her purse. At the bottom she noticed a candy bar that she had bought the previous day but didn't have time to eat. She pulled it out and handed it to Roy.

"For you, for your trouble."

Roy snorted, but gladly accepted the bar, unwrapping it immediately.

"You know that she pays me to drive around the city, right?"

Andy rolled her eyes and gave him a wide smile.

"Just take the damn thing."

She had to admit that travelling by car through the city despite the traffic jams was more pleasant than taking the subway. The seats were certainly much more comfortable, and Roy was great company.

They didn't talk all that much, usually just smiling at each other in passing, or when Roy managed to talk Andy into giving her a ride somewhere, promising that it wouldn't be a problem. He was over ten years older than her and had three small children, whom Andy had met once by pure accident; they ran into each other in Central Park when Miranda flew out to London for the weekend. It was the first time they managed to exchange more words than usual pleasantries, and from then on they both liked each other very much, taking every opportunity to talk. Roy was the type of guy who used to be Andy's dream man. He was so ordinary in the best sense of the word. A guy so good, calm, intelligent and funny that she almost felt like finding some flaw in him would be a challenge.

Nate was like that at first, she thought bitterly.

"Do you know what happened?" She asked, reaching nervously for her phone again, afraid she might have missed a text after all.

"No, sorry Andy, she only tells me where to go, never why."

"Right." She stretched and nodded once, putting her phone back and biting her lip nervously as she looked out the window.

They had been driving for about ten minutes, and she knew better than anyone how much Miranda hated waiting. According to her watch, Andy should have been there fifteen minutes before Miranda even made a call.

"She likes you, you know?" Roy said suddenly, breaking the several minutes of silence between them.

"Huh?" Andy turned back to him, distracting herself from her slowly growing anger at the traffic in this big city. Really, how many people might need to go somewhere before 10am?

"Well, she tolerates me, that's something I guess." She shrugged, also pretending to herself that she was indifferent to Miranda's feelings towards her.

"She tolerates most people." Roy rolled his eyes and replaced his hand on the steering wheel. "But you... you're the one she likes."

The conversation with Doug came back to her mind, and she smiled softly. The fact that it wasn't just her imagination and mediocre comforting by her friend on the matter was good. If others thought so too, it must have been true. It gave her more joy than she would like to admit, especially considering her latest discovery, which she was still only half-accepting.

"And you think that based on what?"

She will take whatever he has to give.

"She talks about you." Roy said in a tone that let her know, like big neon letters on the side of a building in the middle of the night, that this was something she should be aware of. "Every day there's something."

Andy was sure that if Roy looked at her now, he would see her eyes widen and probably sparkle with excitement. She held back a smile with all her might, and it had never felt this hard before. She bit the inside of her cheeks and in the calmest tone she could muster, she asked;

"Like... like what?"

Roy glanced at her with a knowing smile that immediately let her know that she was failing miserably at hiding her emotions. So she decided to give in and smiled widely at him. He chuckled and looked back at the road ahead of them.

"She's complaining a lot."

Say what now?

"Huh?" She made an unspecified sound and felt the smile slowly disappear from her face. "Complaining? About what?!"

"Relax, kid, that's a good thing."

Andy waited for him to elaborate, but each second, longer than the last, was filled with silence. How was she supposed to understand this? After all, she did everything right, she did her job flawlessly, so what was the problem?

"I-, I-, I'm gonna need some specifics, Roy."

He sighed heavily and moved forward in his seat, gripping the steering wheel tighter for a moment.

"You know Miranda pretty well, right?" Duh. "So you know that to get a compliment from her, you'd have to probably introduce her to God himself, and she would still have a problem with the clouds being too cold."

"She doesn't like being cold." Andy replied and it took her a moment to realize that what Roy had said wasn't serious. She felt her cheeks immediately turn red with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Don't be, I get it. What I'm saying is, that if she likes someone she often complains. The fact that she's even thinking about you is a compliment in itself. If she has to voice those thoughts, then, kid, you've got a home run."

It made sense... in a way, Andy guessed. Although she would much rather have Miranda say good things about her. She wasn't expecting anything too nice, of course, but she had the impression that their relationship had changed over the past few days, so why did Miranda still see her in a negative light? Especially since Andy didn't think anything she did was worth complaining about, thank you very much.

She often caught herself defending Miranda against every, even the smallest, insult that people did, and they did often. She was in a position where, like a guard dog, she wouldn't let people say a single bad word about the woman, so perhaps she subconsciously expected the same, even though she shouldn't have. Miranda didn't owe her anything, and the fact that she tolerated her as a person and perhaps liked her as an assistant didn't change anything.

"Don't overthink it." Roy said suddenly, and she looked up from her lap and nodded, forcing a smile.

"Sure thing."

They spent the rest of the journey in silence. Roy must have sensed that Andy was no longer in the mood to talk, and he was right. Telling her not to think about it too much was like falling on dead ears, because how could she not? It was enough for her that she was aware of her over-sensitivity and over-concern, there was no way she was going to push such information to the side as if it would not affect the rest of her day at all. Miranda's sympathy was something she had earned through hard work and dedication, and the need to be flawless was one of her main fears. Andy was even like the older woman in this respect; the demands she placed on herself always exceeded the expectations of others. She didn't know if it was good or bad, she only knew that it was just the way it was and that's how she learned to live.

However, the difference in this similarity was that Andy took into account the fact that not everyone lived according to her rules, and not everyone had her approach to functioning in society. She expected as much as possible from herself, but never as much from others. In a sense, as if it were normal that others might fail at something — as if it was the natural order of things. Here, too, she had doubts about the positive connotation of her thoughts, because they made her feel bitter almost immediately. She never considered herself better than others, not at all, she just set higher standards for herself than for the people in her life, Nate being the perfect example.

Nate, who came back to her mind every time she spent too much time on Miranda, even in her head. As if her subconscious was telling her that this was some kind of emotional betrayal.

It was getting ridiculous, because she wasn't cheating for God's sake — she was blushing again, though.

Andy sat up a little more comfortably and looked out the car window, staring at the East River, where small ships and yachts billowed with the movement of the tiny waves caused by the wind. They were almost at Roosevelt Island, which meant they were very, very close to Miranda's house. Andy didn't feel ready for this interview at all ration. Whether it was because the woman needed her house cleaned, her garden mowed, or perhaps wanted to get Andy fired and thrown out onto the streets right after. Or, or, maybe she just needed someone to take Patty out? Yes, that could also be it. There were many possibilities, and Miranda, as always, did not bother to explain what the case was about.

Andy didn't even realize when they turned onto Miranda's Street. She swallowed hard and with one and then another deep breath, she decided to pull herself together. It wasn't the first time that Miranda deviated from the norm, and more than once Andy did impossible things and not only survived, but also achieved success.

"You have to get off." Roy's voice startled her slightly, and she woke up from the strange trance in which she had been sitting and staring at the entrance door to the town house.

She mumbled something in response, although she wasn't even sure what, and took her purse over her shoulder and got out. She closed the door behind her and after a moment she wanted to turn around to ask something else, but at that moment Roy drove away with a screech of tires.

Great.

Andy had no choice but to remember that she wasn't a child after all and climb the stairs to the door — which is exactly what she did. She was already reaching for the keys that she always had with her, but she stopped her movements at some point. She wasn't here with the Book, so did she have any right to just walk in? Truth be told, when she thought about it more, she had never been to Miranda's house during the day, so even the street she started looking around nervously looked completely different to her — almost unfamiliar. Andy blinked twice and put her keys back in her purse. She raised her right hand and knocked hard three times before she could change her mind and run away. She stood up straight and nervously adjusted her bangs twice, licking her lips and biting her lower lip. There was no turning back now, and she realized it one hundred percent the moment she heard muffled stomping behind the door. The sound of two locks unlocking sounded in her ears, and after a moment the door handle jiggled, and then Miranda leaned out from behind the door.

Without a single word, she left the door open and headed back into the house. Andy, on the other hand, stood frozen in place, and Miranda must have realized it because she turned around after a few steps and looked at her as if she was dealing with an idiot of the highest order.

"Are you waiting for a written invitation?" Ouch. "I don't have all day."

Andy immediately composed herself and quickly went inside, closing the door behind her. When she turned back, she only had time to notice that Miranda was going upstairs. She walked unsteadily past the two armchairs placed just next to the entrance and climbed the two steps leading to the long corridor where she always left the Book and hung up the laundry. Despite Miranda's pleasant invitation, she didn't dare go deeper, especially since the woman seemed to be in a hurry, and her nervousness that she still wasn't even on her way to the office was obvious. She stood patiently near the stairs, afraid to even lean against the walls for fear of getting them dirty. She heard a few voices upstairs, and if she tried hard enough, she would be able to make out what they were saying, but she didn't dare. Miranda, of course, was aware that Andy would be able to hear her conversations with most likely her daughters, but she didn't want to take the risk, even if it was to preserve her own good conscience.

What happened in this house was none of her business — Miranda had explained that clearly to her recently. Andy had no intention of getting involved again, whether she was allowed to be involved in her daughters' lives again or not. What made things easier was that Cassidy had stopped texting her herself, apparently deciding that Andy wasn't anyone worth maintaining a conversation with.

The sound of footsteps approaching down the stairs made her straighten up and swallow quickly. Miranda appeared in front of her, followed by both of her daughters. Only one looked sour, and Andy bet it was Cassidy. She raised her right hand slightly and waved at them, allowing herself a crooked smile, but was ignored by both.

"Can't I just go by myself? I don't need a nanny." "Said probably-Cassidy, pointing to a confused Andy standing in the corner.

Caroline sat on the stairs with a sly smile and watched the whole thing. Miranda, with a look of trouble, walked past Andy, towards one of the closets and pulled out a pair of navy blue pumps. She placed them on the ground in front of her and put them on, leaning lightly on the wall with her left hand.

"That's not up for discussion." She snapped and, with her shoes already on, walked past Andy again, this time disappearing behind the door of one of the closets.

"But mom!" Probably-Cassidy whined and followed her inside.

Andy had no idea what to do with herself. Miranda's admonition was still fresh in her head, and yet, here she was, standing in her boss's house, witnessing her, yet another, argument with one of her daughters. Caroline then looked at Andy and raised one eyebrow, in exactly the same way her mother did when someone made a fool of themselves in front of her, but she didn't say a word.

"No, Cassidy." Miranda said sharply and walked out into the hall again, her daughter hot on her heels. "If you're so sick that you can't go to the piano lessons, Andrea will go with you to the doctor."

What? Andy tore her gaze away from Caroline and immediately focused on Miranda, who didn't seem to notice her shock.

"So what, Caro can stay in the house by herself but I can't go to the doctor on my own?"

"Precisely."

"That's bullshit!"

Miranda turned sharply towards Cassidy and gave her such a look that even Andy wanted to apologize. She seemed to relent under her mother's gaze as well, because her arms dropped resignedly along her body, and she muttered something that was most likely an apology. Andy tore her eyes away from them and looked back at Caroline, who was giggling cheekily as she sat on the stairs, obviously enjoying the scene.

The truth was that Andy had no idea what to do with her hands or what to say about it. Although did she have anything to say here? In a way, she almost identified with Cassidy now, because she was also put in a situation she didn't want to be in at all.

"Andrea." Miranda finally turned to her and Andy immediately focused her full attention on the older woman.

Miranda had her left eyebrow raised, mirroring Caroline's gaze from a moment ago. Andy quickly realized what was going on, so she moved from the spot with only a little difficulty and walked to the door, opening it for Miranda who looked at Cassidy one last warning and let her through the door.

"Close the door." Andy whispered to Caroline, who nodded and got up from the stairs, walking towards them.

Andy also went outside and stood next to Cassidy, unsure what exactly she should do next. Miranda, on the other hand, took her sunglasses out of her purse. She looked at Andy with a serious face.

"After the doctor, take her home and come straight to the office."

"Yes, Miranda."

Roy then came around the corner and stood right in front of them, quickly getting out of the car with Miranda's coffee in his hand. She took it without a word, put on her sunglasses and smiled strangely at Andy before turning her gaze back to Cassidy.

"Behave." And with that she get into the car and drove away.

With Cassidy at her side, Andy watched the Mercedes retreat as it finally disappeared around the corner, turning left. She sighed, smacked her lips, and took one step to the side, looking at Cassidy, who was visibly grumpy.

"So, where do you wanna go?"

Cassidy's gaze immediately caught on Andy's, and she frowned slightly, as if questioning whether her mother's assistant was trustworthy enough to admit sheering laziness that she tried to justify with a made-up illness.

Andy wasn't stupid. More than once, when she was the twins' age, she pretended to be sick to her mother so as not to have to go to school, or simply to get out of some event she didn't want to go to. The symptoms were obvious. Especially considering the atmosphere in their home had certainly been tense since the last big fight Andy had had the misfortune of witnessing.

"You were supposed to take me to the doctor." Cassidy stated suspiciously, her eyes still scanning Andy.

"We can go, but you know very well that the doctor will have to call you mother and tell her that you're perfectly fine." She shrugged and moved slowly in the direction Miranda had left.

She hoped she could play it well. She recently promised Miranda that she would talk to Cassidy, but it was hard considering the girl had stopped texting her. In a way, she wondered if the woman had planned it herself, although it could very well be a lesson of sorts for her daughter when her lie was exposed after a routine examination. Whatever it was, Andy decided to take advantage of the opportunity, because yes, she was still a little withdrawn from it all after how it ended last time, but on the other hand, she still really wanted to do whatever she could to help. Miranda not only apologized to her in her own strange way, but also pushed Andy into the middle of her family business again. If this wasn't a cue for action, Andy would be very confused.

To her relief, she soon heard the quick steps of Cassidy behind her, who seemed to want to catch up with her, curious about her approach to the whole situation.

"If we don't go there, mom will know."

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it." Andy assured and really hoped that she was right.

It was something of an honour for her to be entrusted with such a delicate matter. Certainly not many people could boast of being so trusted by Miranda, no matter who they were or how high they were in the hierarchy of New York's wealthy people. It was a rather bittersweet feeling because Andy was being put in a very uncomfortable position that she was not the least bit happy about (maybe a little). Dealing with teenagers had not improved since her last face-to-face conversation with Cassidy. Still, she knew that whether she wanted to or not, she would do what it took.

She wanted to.

"Then I'd rather go home than go anywhere with my mom's assistant, sorry." Cassidy stated sarcastically, but Andy didn't miss the fact that she didn't take a single step to turn back. Instead, she put both hands in the pockets of her rather loose pants and followed her with her head slightly lowered.

"We can't let Caroline get the hang of it on you." Andy smirked and glanced down at the girl.

Cassidy looked up at her nervously at first, but then she gave in and returned the crooked smile.

"So... you've heard."

"Yeah, but not much, I promise." She raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

"Whatever." Cassidy shrugged. "You already knew about the whole thing anyway."

Andy hummed in agreement and nodded slightly, not continuing the topic for now. She didn't want to push. She preferred to give the girl some freedom and talk to her a little later. She guessed they had about an hour to talk, maybe go get some ice cream, before she took Cassidy home and finally went to work.

It wasn't until they reached Madison Avenue, with Central Park in front of them, that Andy gathered herself enough to speak again.

"So? How have you been?"

Cassidy snorted humourlessly under her breath, most likely sensing the awkwardness in her question, and shrugged.

"Fine."

Okay, nobody said it's going to be easy, Andy thought.

"Is everything okay between you and Caroline?"

"Yeah."

"Listen, you gotta help me here." Andy stopped abruptly and touched Cassidy's shoulder, causing the girl to flinch, shaking her hand off, but at least she also stood still and finally looked at her. Andy raised her hand in the air, silently promising not to touch her again, and continued talking; "I told you from the start, that I wanna help, and I think you know that you need it too. So can we just start cooperating a little?"

Cassidy rolled her eyes and continued walking towards the park, causing Andy to follow right behind her. For a moment, she was convinced that they would spend the entire time in a very uncomfortable silence, but luckily the twin decided to show at least some manners that Miranda was surely trying to teach them. Tried being the key word.

"Okay." She sighed and straightened up slightly, her hands still in her pants pockets. "Caroline and I? We're good. Mom and I? Couldn't be worse."

"Wanna talk about it?" Andy asked in a light tone, because despite her previous statement, she wanted to give the girl a choice, aware that she would not achieve anything by force.

"You buy me some ice cream and I'll talk." Cassidy shrugged and looked at her with a sly smile.

Andy returned it with pleasure, feeling that she might like Cassidy more than she thought.

Twenty minutes later, they sat on one of the park benches with ice cream in their hands. The sun warmed them pleasantly, but fortunately the greatest heatwaves were over. A pleasant wind covered them sometimes from one side and sometimes from the other. The leaves were rustling, sometimes you could hear birds chirping, between the screams of small children running or dogs barking.

"It's a pity we didn't take Patricia." Cassidy said suddenly and stood up for a moment to bend both legs under her and thus sit on the wide bench. "She'd love to run here for a while."

"Well, it might be a problem to explain why we took the dog to the doctor."

Andy said and smiled knowingly at the girl, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on the back of the bench with her right elbow.

"Right." Cassidy laughed lightly and took a large bite of her ice cream. "Why are you doing this?" She asked suddenly, causing the pleasant atmosphere to immediately take on some weight and both of them turning serious.

Why was she doing this? That was a good question. The answer so far had been a desire to help, even though Andy knew that no other sane assistant would do anything like that. The truth that had previously made her uncomfortable around Nate bubbled uncomfortably in her stomach.

She cared too much. There. That's that. A strange obsession with Miranda arose in her head, which made her want to not only spend every free moment with the woman, but when she couldn't, she devoted every thought to her. Hero worship, she thought. The problem is that Miranda was never her hero. Andy didn't find out about this woman until her first day at Runway. Until she was hired there, she had never even looked at an issue of the magazine on the shelf in the store — now she had every issue that she had been buying regularly for half a year. It wasn't a huge collection, obviously, but the gesture counted, right? In addition, she even managed to catch a few others that she discovered on the Internet while doing general research and bought them from other people when the topics contained therein interested her. She kept them hidden from Nate, afraid that he would throw them away or tear them in an act of anger during one of their arguments. He had never been that type of person, but Andy chose to be cautious.

The things she did for Miranda seemed to have no limits. It had been this way for a long time, which Doug liked to make fun of. But she couldn't control it, and if she wanted to be completely honest with herself, she didn't even want to do it. She was fine the way she was. Working for Miranda gave her a lot of happiness, and knowing that there was a bond of sympathy between them — she wanted to even more. Nothing that was so good could actually be bad.

"I'm your mom's assistant." She stated, figuring she would choose the safest answer out of all the ones she could give. She looked at Cassidy and noticed how her eyes dimmed slightly, so she added quickly; "And I care. It's not only because of the job."

Cassidy hummed and returned her attention to the ice cream, so Andy decided to give her a moment to absorb this information.

"You know you're my mom's first assistant that I've ever done something like this with?" Andy nodded, waiting for her to elaborate. "Normally we only see them sometimes in the evenings, when they are with the Book and her laundry, but we can't talk to you."

"Prohibition?"

"Yeah, momma can be a little paranoid." Cassidy snorted and took another bite of ice cream, and Andy gave her a cold look. Unfortunately, it didn't work as well as Miranda's. "What?" She laughed. "She is. I know the newspapers hate her, but seriously, most people probably don't even know she has any children, so I don't know why there's such a panic that everyone will have a problem with us."

"She's not paranoid, she's just protective of you." Andy explained, finding herself wanting to defend Miranda even from her daughter's words. "That's a part of being a mom." She thought for a moment and then decided to add; "Does that bother you?"

"What?" Cassidy looked at her in confusion, but after a second understanding dawned in her eyes; "Oh, well... no. I don't care about that really. It's just-"

She stopped and Andy fought hard not to utter a single sound, not wanting to scare her from finishing what she was saying. Cassidy shrugged, letting her shoulders fall limply. After a while, she scratched her head with her right hand and rubbed her face with a silent sigh.

"It's just hard leaving in her shadow, 'cause believe me, it's a big one." There it was, Andy thought. "It's like, I get who she is, I get what her work is, but why do I have to suffer the consequences of the life she has chosen." She laughed humourlessly and rolled her eyes, and Andy felt her own eyes soften and her jaw tighten. "Honestly, all this crap that I have to go through just because she's famous and a bitch to other people."

Andy swallowed hard, sensing that now wasn't the time to point out Cassidy's choice of words. Finally, in black and white, in bold letters, there it twas. What was actually going on was explained. She looked at the girl for a moment and realized that it was mainly because of how similar she was to her mother, they couldn't get along at all. Two strong characters who went through life with the strength of a tank. When they collided, neither could let go. Caroline was different in that respect, at least that's what Andy could tell from watching her as she sat on the stairs. The other twin just stayed behind, but it was not the decision of others, but her own. She preferred to stand aside and observe.

"Have you talked about it with her?" She asked instead, because she didn't really know what else to say in this situation. She wouldn't be able to fully identify with this teenager's feelings, and she wasn't going to pretend otherwise.

"Have you tried to talk about anything with her ever?" Cassidy replied sarcastically, and there was that eyebrow again. "She's not exactly a person you can talk with."

"Well, maybe not me, but Miranda's your mom." Andy stated in a tone that she hoped emphasized how obvious the information she was conveying was.

"That doesn't mean anything." She stated and Andy felt a lump growing in her throat. "Even if you could get along with her, she's never there."

"And would you like her to be?"

The question seemed to Andy to be one where the answer would be obvious. Even before she heard it, she started planning all the ways she would be able to send Miranda home much earlier than before. Yes, she did everything in her power to make Miranda's schedule look as good as possible, but it seemed like she wasn't trying hard enough.

Cassidy, to her surprise, thought about the answer for much longer than expected. It shouldn't be like this, she thought.

"She wouldn't." She finally said and looked down at her lap, rolling the ice cream cone in her hands. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Cass, I'm sure that she's-"

"Sorry, Andy, but you don't know her at all." Cassidy interrupted her, and her words made Andy immediately shut up. "Plus, Caro's her favourite, so... yeah."

"Miranda loves you both the same, I promise you. She doesn't do favourites." She assured, believing her own words one hundred percent.

"Yeah, she does. Caro's her favourite daughter and you're her favourite assistant."

They drove home in silence, and despite the tone of their previous conversation, there was no awkwardness between them. They got to the door and Andy used the key to let Cassidy inside. They didn't exchange any more words, but their smiles said much more.

"Oh my God!" Emilly snapped and almost flew out of her chair as soon as she saw Andy walk in. "Where have you been for so long? Have you started hibernating or something?"

So Miranda haven't said anything to Emily — noted.

As soon as she walked Cassidy home, Andy skipped the subway ride and hailed a taxi instead. She wasn't entirely sure what she should say to Miranda if she asked her anything. She figured she'd think of something on the way. Now she was there, sitting at her desk and still hadn't thought of anything. Fortunately, fate smiled at her, because Miranda was now at one of the budget meetings, most likely fighting for more money, because people usually expected something breathtaking after the Met Gala. It wasn't that they couldn't do it even with the currently exorbitant budget, Andy was sure that what they had was enough, but Nigel had once explained to her that Miranda's intention was to overcharge the amount by three times what she actually needed — thanks to this, she always ended up with enough budget for any corrections and Irv was happy, because Miranda didn't get what she initially wanted.

Hence, for sure rejecting some jackets that Andy couldn't remember at all, worth three hundred thousand dollars.

Anyway, whatever the meeting was, Miranda kept Emily in the dark. Therefore, Andy now had to come up with some plausible explanation for why she came so late and Miranda did not draw any consequences. In the light of these events, she even counted on one of those impossible tasks, because not only would she be able to occupy her mind with something other than her own strange feelings, but Miranda would also shut Emily up and prevent questions from being asked.

"Miranda send me to somefskjas..." She mumbled quickly and incoherently, not saying anything clearly, hoping Emily would be too proud to admit she hadn't heard.

The redhead blinked twice and placed both hands on her hips.

"Did you just had a seizure?"

She wished she did.

"What are you talking about, Em?" She asked, laughed nervously and hid in the kitchen for a moment, pretending that she had to do something there.

When she returned and sat down at her desk, Emily gave her a strange look, but as Andy had predicted, she didn't comment further, focusing on typing something on the keyboard. After letting out a silent sigh of relief, Andy reached for her notebook and placed it within reach on the desk, tapping her computer, hoping that she would be able to focus on her work.

The phone rang, and she reached for it immediately, knowing full well that Emily, as an act of revenge, would most likely not touch it for the rest of the day.

"Miranda Priestly's office."

"Is that you, Andy? Or the other one?"

She grabbed the phone in both hands and pressed it tightly to her ear, as if to make sure that Emily couldn't hear who she was talking to, because there was no way that this was actually happening. There was no fucking way.

"Nate?"

Emily went to lunch, reminding Andy that she had more time than her once again. Previously, she would probably have been annoyed, but now most of the words that fell from the British woman's mouth were filtered by Andy to such an extent that they became background noise. Of course, their relationship improved significantly, but Emily still couldn't completely abandon this offensive attitude towards her.

Andy, on the other hand, skipped her lunch break entirely. She wasn't hungry at all, she felt quite good, and after the call from Nate she felt like punching someone. She didn't even want to think about it at the moment, deciding that she would take all her frustration out on him when she got home. The fact that Emily kept her comments to a minimum today was a saving grace for her. She wouldn't want to snap at her for no reason.

Well, she had a reason, but Andy wasn't the type of person to lash out at others.

On top of all this, she was also angry with herself. Employees emailed each other photos from the Met Gala. The event took place almost three weeks ago, but until now Andy hadn't bothered to look through her mailbox thoroughly enough. She was keeping up only with the most important stuff. Therefore, now that she had more time, because she had previously been working at a breakneck pace to calm down, and the phones stopped ringing one by one, she decided to open all the outstanding messages. However, she was more interested in the opinions of her colleagues than in the outfits themselves, because she was watching a live broadcast; she didn't remember the ending very well because of the tequila.

She opened them one by one, resting her chin on her hand. Andy agreed with some of them and completely disagreed with others. She didn't bother replying to any of them, considering how outdated the topic was, but nonetheless she had an internal discussion in her head contrasting their opinions.

But, where does the anger at herself come from?

One of the last emails she opened was signed with nothing more than a simple 'Damn!', and a 'damn' it was. Attached was one of the photos from the very beginning, which, as far as Andy knew, hadn't been published anywhere.

Miranda's photo.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't download a few of the freely available ones onto her laptop. However, she convinced herself that it was only for scientific purposes regarding... whatever. The thing was, that the photo she was looking at now looked nothing like the other ones. The light seemed to be much warmer, it was taken from a completely different angle than all the ones they printed for newspapers. The whole of Miranda was not visible in this photo, much less the dress, which, although beautiful, was in the background for Andy. This photo was taken with a zoom in by someone standing just a few steps above Miranda. The red carpet stood out in the lower left corner, and everything behind her was slightly darkened, only the flashes of cameras stood out, making it look like Miranda herself was the star that illuminated everything around her. She held the fabric of her dress in both hands, lifting it slightly so as not to trip while climbing the stairs. She was looking up with a smile so big and natural that Andy had never seen on her before. She didn't even know Miranda's face was stretching to that extent.

She was glowing.

Her hair was shimmering silver, falling in waves in that way. Only at the very top of the head they were slightly raised to give them volume. The makeup was subtle, but Miranda never needed a lot of cosmetics, or at least that was the impression. Her blue eyes sparkled not only in the spotlight, but also with their own light, caused by a wide smile that showed all her teeth. Her cheeks rose, slightly red, either from the heat or from the excitement and laughter.

Over all Miranda was like a painting, a piece of art, the sun itself so you just had to pun on sunglasses as not to loose sight.

So yeah, Andy was really pissed, because she should have been there to see it in person. She should have been there even if she wouldn't be by Miranda's sight all night. Just o see this one moment, a couple of minutes of walking up those stairs... oh, how she wished.

"Six!" Nigel's voice started her, and she quickly closed the email feeling her cheeks going furiously red as she realized how fast her heart was beating. "Are you okay? You look sick." He stated with a bit of disgust in his voice, leaning away from her slightly.

"Yes, no, I'm fine! What's up?" She leaned back on the chair, hoping he would get to the topic he came to her with.

"I was sent as a messenger regarding a matter." He started mysteriously and Andy gave him a sly smile, because Nigel had a tendency to be dramatic.

"Okaay."

"As you know, Jocelyn is pregnant and-"

"What?" She interrupted him immediately, because, in fact, she did not know. "I had no idea!"

Nigel looked at her as if she came from outer space, and he blinked.

"You didn't know? Well, she is." He waved his hand, deciding not to explain anything further, leaving Andy in complete shock.

Andy was never close to Jocelyn. They always greeted each other in the corridors when they passed each other and sometimes exchanged a few words, but lately she may have actually neglected their conversations together. There was a lot of going on both at work and in her private life. She'll have to talk to her as soon as possible and congratulate her!

She just wondered what Miranda would think about all this, because it would mean taking a long maternity leave. She and Jocelyn didn't know each other that well, but Andy knew how committed the woman was to Runway and didn't think she would want to give up on building her career for as long as a child — especially a baby — would require.

"She will be leaving soon because she decided she wanted to avoid all this stress and focus on making sure the baby develops well. We are planning to throw her a little farewell party here at the office." He explained and leaned his right shoulder on her desk and rubbed his head with his hand. "So, when does she go?"

"Who?" Andy asked stupidly because she had no idea what Nigel was actually asking her.

He rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed that he probably had to explain everything to her, but Andy, contrary to popular belief, couldn't read people's minds.

"Miranda. When does she go? To the Hamptons."

The question was asked in a tone that suggested it was an obvious fact that Andy should have known all along. The problem, however, was that she had no idea about any trip. Neither Miranda nor Emily mentioned anything at all. She felt the stress begin to tighten her stomach and her intestines twist unnaturally. Should she have planned everything already? She was convinced that no one had informed her about anything.

"I-, I don't know anything about it." She finally said, slightly dazed. She really hoped Emily didn't know anything about it either, because she would be furious if she did.

Nigel looked at her with shock on his face, and if it weren't for how moved she was now, his expression would probably have made her laugh.

"Every year, when the holidays start, Miranda takes the twins to the Hamptons for a weekend. It's become a tradition, because then these two little monsters fly to Italy with their father for a month. Its common knowledge, Six, I don't know how you can not know about-"

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, Nigel!" She started breathing faster. "She didn't say anything about it!"

"Well, then she probably will in a couple of days. Just tell me what weekend it will be when you find out, okay?" He asked, completely calm, and began to walk away towards his office, leaving her in complete shock. "Feel invited!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She said as soon as she walked in to the apartment.

Never in her life had she expected him to do something like find the phone number for Miranda's office and call her to have a chat. She hung up almost immediately, feeling her face begin to turn red with nervousness. Even Emily must have sensed that something was wrong, because she didn't say a word to her unless she really had to. Miranda was no longer in the office; she only called once and told her to reschedule the rest of the day's appointments, which only left her even more stressed after a short visit from Nigel.

Why? Nobody knew. Andy had her guesses, knowing Miranda's situation a little better than the others, so she kept quiet.

Now, however, she was fully focused on her own rage. It was one thing that Nate didn't take her job seriously. In the privacy of their home, or even among his own friends, he could say whatever he wanted. Andy was long past the point of taking these things personally. What she cared about was how delicate a situation they were in, not being able to reach an agreement on any other level, because sometimes it was fine, but once every few days, the topic of her distancing had to come back. While she had denied it at first, saying it wasn't like that at all, now she wanted to shout straight into his face how soon they would be very distant.

She tossed her apartment keys into the bowl they always kept them in, and without taking off her shoes, perhaps subconsciously trying to increase her height, she stepped deeper into the apartment and caught her eye on Nate, who was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the table and a beer in his hand. He smiled at first, but as soon as he heard her words, his face fell.

"I'm not sure I-"

"Calling to her office in the middle of the day! Are you nuts?" She hissed seeing red.

Nate rolled his eyes and took a sip straight from the bottle.

"Jeez, Andy, relax, it was a joke. I've found the number so I called to tell you about the gift I have for-"

She breathed heavily, unable to believe what she was hearing. A small part of her, all the way from Miranda's house after putting the Book away, clung to the hope that when she got home and broached the subject, she would hear a long, exhausting apology, followed by promises never to do it again. Instead, she was told to calm down.

"Joke?" She repeated, lowering her voice two tones. "A joke? Did you think that was funny?"

"Clearly your sense of humor have also changed." He replied in a surprised tone that incited her even more.

"My sense of humor has nothing to do with it, Nate! What were you even thinking? What if Emily had picked up the phone instead of me? Do you have any idea what position that puts me in?"

"But you answered, so calm down and stop yelling at me! I just wanted to talk to you!" He put down his beer and sat normally on the couch, taking his legs off the table.

They both looked at each other nervously, but Andy couldn't believe that not only had he done something so stupid, but he was also arguing with her about it.

"Then you should have sent me a text message and waited for me to call you back!"

"Sure, now I have to wait in line on the phone line too until you have time to pick up from these-"

"Yes, Nate, you will." Andy snapped and her voice dropped even more. "You will, because when I'm at work, I'm working."

He rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as if what she was saying to him made no sense.

"No matter how many times I text you while you're at work, you never reply or call me back! What else was I supposed to do, huh?"

Andy straightened up and clenched her jaw because she knew it was true. She had been ignoring his messages while she was at work for a long time, postponing them until later. All this internal conflict that she felt constantly within herself regarding their relationship was starting to become more and more tiring. On the one hand, she wanted their relationship to return to its previous state, because she spent some of the most beautiful moments in her life with Nate. However, there was another side that told her that she simply didn't have the strength for it anymore.

"What was so, damn, important, that couldn't wait for you to tell me when I'm back home?" She finally asked, lowering her voice, although there was some venom in it.

Nate stood up and ran his hands through his hair and face, taking a few deep breaths, probably calming himself down.

"I booked a trip for us."

"What?" She asked breathlessly and frowned, not believing his words.

"I booked a trip." He repeated and took two steps towards her. "I know how much you work, so i figured you need a little break. Whatever you may think, I didn't give up on us, and I won't! I-, I love you, Andy, I want this to work." He explained and Andy was already on the verge of tears.

"How-" She started, because while she felt really moved by his gesture, she was still furious about that thoughtless call, and there was also the matter of her job, planning Miranda's weekend, which the woman hadn't mentioned anything about yet, and what she and Nigel were working on regarding the stolen articles. "I don't have the time for that, Nate. You know that."

He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw as hard as he could to avoid saying anything stupid. Andy was grateful for that, because he was already well past his limit for the day.

"You've been working and working... I'm sure that you'd get just two days for yourself."

Andy snorted and took a step to the side, turning away from him, suddenly needing some space to take a deeper breath. She felt like she was running out of oxygen at that moment. She ran her hand through her hair and grabbed it at the roots, raising her eyebrows and using her other hand to support herself on her hip.

"I-, It's already paid, I took care of everything." Nate started talking, and with each word she felt like something very heavy was settling on her shoulders. "You don't have to worry at all, okay? I-, I wanted to surprise you with this, because I know how you love those kind of stuff."

She really had no idea how to explain this to him. How to tell him that she simply couldn't afford it. There was too much work, everything was happening everywhere at once, and Andy already felt like she was losing control. On top of that, there was the guilt she felt towards Nate due to her newfound fascination with Miranda. No matter how small it was and it would most likely pass within a month — in all the years she had been with her boyfriend, she had never had anything like this with another person.

Perhaps he was right. Maybe this little trip would help them rebuild their relationship, but the problem was that she didn't want it anymore. She didn't want to go anywhere with him, knowing that he would forbid her from using her phone, which would most likely mean she would answer Miranda's calls secretly. This woman wasn't someone whose call could be ignored just like that, and most importantly, Andy would never want to do that.

"Nate..." She started slowly and blinked rapidly, swallowing and facing him again. "I really appreciate what you did, even though I'm still mad at you." He smiled crookedly at her in silent apology and Andy looked at him for a moment, deciding to appreciate this moment of peace because she knew they were about to go back to screaming. "It won't happen. I-, I-, I can't just go with you somewhere for two days and neglect my job. I have responsibilities here, there is more work than ever, and I also have to plan for Miran-"

"Fuck that!" Nate interrupted her suddenly and moved a few steps back to lean against the table. "Why do you have to always bring her into this?"

"What? I'm working for her, so it's obvious, that-"

"No! No, I'm not talking about that!" He hissed and pointed a finger at her, still hunched over the table, his weight on his other hand. "In every fucking conversation we have, no matter what topic it's about, you have to mention this woman at least once. Are you in love with her or something? I had no idea you suddenly started liking old-"

"Fuck you, Nate!" She interrupted him because she had no intention of letting him finish his thought. "Can you even hear yourself? I have a job to do. A job that's demanding and damn hard and I-, it doesn't matter what you think about it, but I care about it. So could you please stop with your weird insinuations?"

"'Weird in-?', Andy, what the actual fuck? How do you think this even popped into my head, huh? You talk about her non-stop, you even answer calls from her in the middle of the night! How am I supposed to feel about this all when clearly The Dragon Lady is more-"

"Don't call her that!"

"-important to you than me! I will talk about her as much as I want, because she is a crazy old woman whose hobby is apparently molesting younger girls!"

Andy took a step back and blinked at him a few times, unable to believe what he had just said. Internally she cringed so hard, that she couldn't even take a proper breath in.

"Are you even hearing yourself?" She asked in almost a whisper, trying her hardest to ignore the tears that wanted to flow down her reddened cheeks. "Think about what you just said to me, Nate, and we'll talk further when you smarten up."

"Oh please..." He whined sarcastically. "Don't tell me that I'm not right, that you would rather spend the fucking trip with her instead of me, because, surprise, surprise!, that's what you've been doing this whole time! How many months have I heard the same excuses, and I was stupid enough to believe them, huh?"

He stood on the other side of the room, his face contorted in rage that created new lines she had never seen on him before. Andy could no longer recognize him as the boy she had fallen in love with almost five years ago and had learned to love more and more every day. What had happened to them could no longer be saved, and only now did she realize it. She was blinded earlier, convinced that she had a greater love for him, and although she still felt it all, she now saw in black and white how far they had come in their mutual dislike and misunderstanding. There was no turning back from this.

"Oh my God, this isn't happening..." She whispered to herself and covered her face with her hands, unable to even look at him now. "I'm not-, I'm not in love with her, Nate. She's my boss. A very demanding boss." She began to explain slowly, as if to a small child, unable to believe that she even had to say it out loud to him — the thing so obvious.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Nate asked suddenly, his face softening slightly, which Andy noticed as her arms fell limply along his body. "The problem isn't who she is or isn't, I don't give a damn what she does, what she looks like, I couldn't care less. The problem is how you treat her."

"I treat her like my boss, Nate, there is nothi-"

"Think about that trip. Think about it, and let me know when you decide. I'm willing to wait." He suddenly returned to the previous topic of their conversation, throwing Andy completely off guard. "I'll be at Mike's for a couple of nights."

With that, he passed her, careful not to touch her, and left the apartment, leaving Andy to wonder how it was that despite his behavior, she was now standing alone and with a growing sense of guilt. No matter what the argument was about, Nate had a knack for handling it in such a way that she seemed to be the one to blame.

She sniffed and looked around the apartment lost, not knowing what she should do with herself now. She was never good at arguing, especially with people she loved. Because no matter how angry and hurt she was now, she still had feelings for Nate, no matter how dull they were. Due to everything that was happening around her, she didn't even have that much time to go back to memories of him and the old times. It wasn't that long ago that she, Nate, Doug and Lily were inseparable. Some time ago, since their last fight, she had had a feeling that her friendship with Lils would be irredeemable, but now Nate had come into the equation as well. Their arguments, which had become much more frequent, heralded the imminent end of their relationship, no matter how hard they started working on it now. No tour could fix this.

She was grateful that at least Doug stayed in her life — the only person who still connected her to her old life and her old priorities, and for that she was grateful.

Her phone vibrated, and she sniffed twice more, searching for it in her purse, which was still in her hands. Before she answered, she got rid of the tears that were streaming down her cheeks and answered;

"Yes?" She really hoped that her wet voice couldn't be heard on the other end of the phone.

"Hey, Andy!"

She smiled, unable to contain her reaction, and walked over to the couch and sat down heavily on it, kicking off her shoes from her sore feet.

"Hey, Cass, how are you? Shouldn't you be in bed? It's late."

"Oh come on..." She whined and Andy could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "I wanted to thank you for today. I haven't had anyone I could talk to like that for a long time. It was nice."

"It's okay, Munchkin, you don't have to thank me, it was a pleasure."

"'Munchkin?'" Cassidy laughed on the other end, and her laughter almost completely washed away the memories of Andy's earlier sadness from her face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. You just remind me of them, I guess." She replied sarcastically through laughter, but when she didn't get any answer, she added suspiciously; "You did see 'The Wizard of Oz', right?"

"Nope." The answer was given in a melodious tone. "Never, but I alwasy wanted to!"

"Oh God, so we'll have to watch it together some day." Andy said and hoped very much that they would actually have the opportunity to do so.

She didn't expect much, though, because no matter what Miranda allowed her to do, watching movies together with her children might have been a limit she couldn't cross. Andy adjusted her position on the couch a little and blinked faster to clear away the remaining tears and sniffled again, forgetting for a moment that Cassidy might hear her.

"Andy?" She asked and all the humor left her voice. "Are you crying?"

At this point Andy was able to hear the door open in the background and suddenly Miranda's muffled voice came through the headphones, probably telling her daughter to go to bed — it was almost 11pm. Instantly, Andy felt her body heat up and panicked, she almost hung up, but she gave up on the idea, not wanting to end her conversation with Cassidy without saying goodbye, and instead stopped breathing. The topic of her fight with Nate still fresh in her mind.

"... and go to sleep." Miranda spoke, her voice suddenly much closer. "Who are you talking to?"

Andy almost sank to the ground when she heard Cassidy's answer;

"With Andy, she's crying."

Sweet mother of God.

Then she heard a few rustles coming from the phone, and finally the door closing.

"Andrea?"

"Hi." She whispered in response, because it would be stupid to hang up now. If Cassidy did her like that, she had to face it. "I'm sorry for talking with your daughter, we ta-"

"What happened?" Miranda's voice was hard, and the question was said in such a way that it didn't even sound like a question anymore.

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, letting it out shakily. The last thing she expected today was to be talking to Miranda at this late hour. She hadn't seen her all day, except for that brief moment at her house, and she hadn't even realized how much she missed that voice.

"It doesn't matter." She shrugged, but hearing the way Miranda was taking a breath, she quickly added, not wanting to upset her. "I just had a little fight with my boyfirend, that's it."

"And you're talking with my daughter about it?"

"No!" She denied it quickly, and her heart accelerated at an alarming rate, almost bursting out of her chest. "God, no! I'd never-, she called me to talk about today and probably just heard that I must have-, whatever, you don't want to hear about it. I mean you asked, so it's not like I'm..." Jesus Christ. "Okay, what I mean is that I haven't-, wouldn't talk about it with her, I promise. You came in the moment she asked me if I was crying."

The silence stretched for a long time, and Andy felt like shooting herself at that moment. She was completely unable to talk normally to Miranda and it bothered her much more than it probably should have.

"Well..." Miranda finally began, her voice unsteady, as if she was equally uncomfortable that this strange conversation was even taking place between them. "I hope you two get along. Now, I should-"

"Yes, of course!"

"Yes."

"Umm..." This was probably the most awkward conversation they ever had. "Thank you for asking, and, umm... goodnight."

"Yes." She repeated. "Goodnight, Andrea."

Andy waited for Miranda to hang up and as soon as she did, she threw the phone to the other end of the couch and slid lower in frustration.

What was happening with her life?

Maybe it was stupid to replace Nate's presence with someone else, but from the moment she saw him for the first time. She knew it was pure need to take him to her place. She just couldn't help herself.

She sat with him on the couch, enjoying the warmth of his body. They had been lying like that for an hour now, and Andy had to admit that despite her current emotional crisis, she did not regret the decisions she had made so far, even the most recent ones.

It was nice to lie on the couch with him, two days after Nate had decided to stay at his friend's for a while. He gave her a sense of security that she had been missing for so long. He didn't judge her, didn't argue with her, and always waited for her. With him, she didn't feel so lonely anymore and wanted to hold him in her arms all the time, which he also reciprocated. He was soft, and nice, had the most intelligent eyes, and over all was the most beautiful. She fell for him from the very first time she laid her eyes on him.

Now, as they lay snuggled together after eating their small dinner, she wasn't even thinking about Nate that much, instead focusing on her new friend. He had an extremely distinguished appearance. He always strutted around her apartment as if it belonged to him, and Andy was sure that it did. Every step he took was confident, his expression always serious. He was a gentleman.

"Come here." Andy whispered and pulled him closer to her, giving him three quick kisses. "You're so handsome, you know?"

He looked down at her and blinked slowly, obviously agreeing with her words. In response, he just purred and went back to sleep, and Andy went back to petting her new cat.

Chapter Text

"Lagerfeld." Doug repeated for the third time since he entered her apartment. "You named your cat after Karl Lagerfeld."

"Well, don't you see the resemblance?" Andy asked in an innocent tone and picked up the cat from the floor and placed it on her lap. "Look."

Doug blinked twice and looked at the cat with a smile that showed he thought Andy was crazy. In a way, she shared his opinion, but now there was no turning back. When she was crying two days earlier, she turned on her laptop and landed on a website advertising cats for adoption. That's how she found little Laggy. Well, he wasn't that small after all. He had grey, long fur, the lightest, almost white, on his head and neck. No wonder she named him that way. In addition, he was a much more characterful cat than Andy would have expected. When she picked him up, she couldn't shake the feeling that not only did he understand exactly what was being said to him, but in fact he was even smarter than her.

"I guess." Doug said and also stretched out his hand to pet him, and the cat immediately leaned towards him and meowed twice. "He talks an awful lot for a cat."

"Yeah, but it's adorable. Finally, someone I can talk with when I'm home." She joked sarcastically and tucked her two legs under herself on the couch.

"You wanna talk about it?"

She thought for a moment. At first, she was sure it was because she needed to vent after such a big fight and after Nate's accusations against her. But now, two days later, she wasn't so sure she wanted to go back to it. They weren't on speaking terms anyway. She guessed that in a few more days they would break up. She only hoped that they would do it in a slightly nicer atmosphere and that they would handle the whole matter like adults.

"No, I'm good, thanks."

Doug gave her a crooked smile and fully focused on the cat. She really was 'okay', she realized. More okay than she thought she could ever be. She had Doug, Nigel, even Emily, and now Little Laggy, what more could she ask for?

She knew the answer, but just not yet would she allow for it to make it to the surface.

Coffee in hand, she walked through the revolving doors at the entrance to the Elias-Clarke building and quickly approached the elevators. Three days earlier, Nate had moved in with a friend from work. Andy, like a good girlfriend, decided to give him the space he clearly needed and didn't call him once. Maybe she should have, but despite her remorse, she and her cat were happy. No matter what time she came back, he was waiting for her, always talked to her and never judged her.

While waiting for the elevator, she almost spilled all her coffee on herself when she felt a hand on her lower back. She screamed, flinching violently and turned sharply, ready to punch someone square in the nose.

"Hey, hey! I come in peace!" Tom laughed and raised both hands in the air in surrender.

Andy took a breath and gave him a small smile, placing one hand on her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat.

"Oh my God!" She hit him with her purse lightly. "Don't do that!"

Tom smiled slyly and stood next to her, focusing his eyes on the changing numbers above the elevator doors that indicated the changing floors.

"So, how are you? Haven't seen you in a while."

Well, that's a loaded question if Any has ever heard one.

"I'm fine, thanks." She shrugged. "And that's your fault, not mine. You stopped bringing the Book."

"Well..." Andy cringed — suddenly she had a feeling that it was because of their last conversation. "I'm back at it."

She nodded and stepped into the elevator with relief when the doors finally slid open. But she forgot that she ain't the Miranda Priestly, so she doesn't get to ride it on her own. Tom stepped in right after her and pressed their floors.

"Anything interesting going on upstairs?" He asked and Andy thought for a moment.

There was a lot of everything going on. In fact, there was so much going on that she didn't know what to focus on any more; on arranging as many appointments as possible for Miranda, which she was having back to back, on making sure Miranda was able to get home to her daughters early, or on not thinking about Miranda at all in all of this. That was her biggest problem at the moment. Almost as if she had become so dependent on this woman's presence in her life that the way her day looked now somehow still didn't include enough of her.

Andy was never the type of person to be fascinated by older actors, for example. She understood where it was coming from, but she had never experienced it herself. Yes, she could tell that she liked one of them and it was nice to keep an eye on them — they were a pleasure to look at. But it never amounted to any kind of obsession, which was exactly what she recognised in herself right now.

It wasn't even about the fact that Miranda was older, in fact Andy in a way liked the aspect of her being... exactly! That was the problem. She couldn't recognize her own thoughts any more. Not only Miranda was older, and someone that Andy knew in real life, and not only on the screen, but she was, well, Miranda. It was a real human being, a woman, not an actor on the screen and Andy felt the way she felt and had no idea how to fix that.

So when Tom was asking her if there's anything interesting going on upstairs at their floor? That's a question worth a million right there;

"Not a day of peace." Andy finally answered, counting down the floors to the one where Tom would have to get off.

She tried to ignore the guilt she felt about it, because she knew it was herself that had the problem and Tom was a really nice guy.

"Well, if anything interesting happens, let me know." He said, winked at her, and took a step forward as the door slid open after the bell rang. "I love all the gossip!"

Andy gave him an awkward wave and sighed as he disappeared around the corner. She reached her floor finally, and...

"Oh, here you are." Miranda mumbled as soon as the door opened and got in without waiting for Andy to get out and took the coffee from her hand. 

Andy blinked a few times, not sure what had just happened, and she felt the terror, that even though she had arrived at work earlier than she should have, Miranda was already there. She felt her jaw open slightly and looked at Emily, who was staring at her with an equally shocked and then furious expression until she disappeared behind the door.

"Where are we going?" She asked uncertainly and hoped very much that she hadn't forgotten anything.

Miranda's schedule was memorized from A to Z, and she was sure that they wouldn't have to go out together in the morning, especially so early. Emily couldn't add anything either because Andy would get a text from her with instructions and all the details.

Miranda took another sip of coffee, sighed slightly, and Andy swallowed hard.

She took a step to the side, and no matter that she had her sunglasses already on, Andy knew she was scanning her with her eyes. It took her a little longer than usual and Andy hoped that her rapidly beating heart wasn't visible from the outside as well. She only hoped that the verdict would be positive, because she tried her best that day. She woke up in a fantastic mood, felt inspired and decided to wear a dress from Loewe, reaching above her knees, the colour of coffee with milk. A thin gold belt wrapped around her waist, and her shoulders and neck were covered with a short turtle-neck with short sleeves made of a shimmering fabric, a shade darker than the rest of the dress. On her feet she put on medium burgundy Jimmy Choo high heels. Her hair was tied into a high, slightly upturned ponytail, and her bangs framed her face on both sides because they had already grown out a bit.

Miranda must have accepted her choice because she nodded, muttered under her breath, smiled slightly and immediately turned around.

"James Holt." She finally answered and sighed heavily, taking another sip of coffee.

Andy frowned slightly and stared at the floor, replaying Miranda's entire schedule. She didn't remember them having a meeting scheduled with him. However, she decided not to ask, especially since Miranda seemed to be in a good mood.

No reason to change it so soon in the morning.

They got off the elevator and Andy quickly followed the woman and was relieved to see that Roy was already waiting, most likely having received a call from Emily. They walked through the large hall, past the prescription office, and it was impossible not to notice how people were giving them a wide berth. Andy thought it was a very bittersweet experience. On the one hand, she didn't want to be ostentatiously avoided by others at every step, but on the other, she couldn't shake the thought that the fact that Miranda had such authority was... well.

She blushed, and quickly ran around the car, getting in on the other side when the older woman had already closed the door. Miranda cleared her throat and Andy managed to catch Roy's eye in the mirror as a moment later the window closed between them.

"I hope that despite the recent difficulties in your private life, you are able to focus on work."

Andy blinked in confusion, because so far Miranda had shown no interest in her private life at all. She looked at her and cringed at her indulgent look. The memory of their phone conversation was still fresh in her mind.

"Yeah, umm, I'm okay, thanks." She mumbled, not entirely sure how to even conduct this conversation.

Miranda, on the other hand, was clearly in the mood to chat that day, because she didn't drop the topic.

"I must admit, I was surprised to learn that after all, you do talk with my daughter. Never expected it to be about such private matters."

"Oh, no, no, no!" Andy quickly denied and turned further in her chair towards Miranda, feeling the need to make direct eye contact. "It's-, it's not like that, I swear! She must have heard that I was off, but I'd never-"

"Relax." Miranda waved her hand and Andy blinked twice slowly, because that was the last answer she expected. "She really warmed up to you, after you took her out. She won't stop talking about you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, It's not really an ideal arrangement for my assistant to have any relationship with even one of my daughters," Andy cringed. "But I must admit that she's more..." She raised her hand and moved it left and right in the air a few times as if searching for words. "Open."

Emily did not gave her a training of how to talk with Miranda about her kids. She really needed one now.

"That's... good?" She answered, though the intonation of her voice sounded more like a question than a statement.

Miranda sensed her hesitation and forced a smile with a slight sigh and looked away, looking out the window. Andy, convinced that was the end of the conversation, reached into her purse for her notebook and almost jumped in place as Miranda's voice filled the space between them again.

"Well, are you and your..."

"Nate." She prompted and placed the notebook on her lap, clutching it with both hands.

Talking to Miranda about her private life was one thing, but for some reason, she didn't feel very comfortable talking about her boyfriend. These were two separate worlds that she didn't want to mix. Plus, she wasn't too comfortable with Miranda knowing that Andy even had a boyfriend. Which was strange, but she felt inhibited and had this feeling that she didn't want Miranda to know that Andy was in a relationship.

"Yes, him, well-" She said quickly and waved her hand as if he was someone completely insignificant. In this car he was. "Did you come to an agreement?"

It was probably the strangest conversation they had. Andy had no idea what to do with her hands, so she squeezed the notebook harder. She was highly uncomfortable.

"Umm, n- not really."

"Hmm." Miranda hummed and seemed uncertain whether to ask more questions or just stop it at that. "What does he do for a living?"

"He's a, umm, he's a cook."

"Huh." Miranda jerked her head slightly at that. "He must have a lot of working hours then."

What the hell is going on?, she thought. Sure as hell sounded as if Miranda was trying to make her feel a little bit better. After all she and her husband had the same problem as Andy. Whatever it was, that Miranda was trying to do, she felt better. Andy smiled knowingly to her, because there was no need to say that she's grateful for that little comment out loud.

For a second, she thought about whether she should return the question and ask Miranda how things were going with her husband. Fortunately, she remembered that she had a working brain and didn't even take a breath to start talking. But she felt that if she was ever going to have a chance to have a friendlier conversation with Miranda, this was it.

"So..." She started slowly and regretted her decision as soon as Miranda turned and looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "Have you, umm, well, not that it's any of my business, but I was just wondering if maybe, umm-"

"Out with it." Miranda said more sharply and spun her hand in the air, telling her to speed up.

Andy's heart beat twice as fast, she nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself down. At the same time, she was terrified and excited by the pure fact of them talking.

"Have you talked with Cassidy?" She blurted out quickly and took a sharp breath. "I mean-, well, are you guys okay?"

Miranda looked at her for a moment, not saying anything, and Andy stressed that maybe she had overstepped. Just because the older woman was questioning her didn't mean she could ask any questions in return.

"Yes." Miranda replied briefly, and apparently that meant the end of their conversation, because she turned to the window and didn't start any more topics.

Andy checked the time on her watch, and saw with heavy breathing that they had only been driving for less than ten minutes. They had at least another ten to get to James Holt, and the traffic jams in the city were not in their favour. She just hoped that Miranda wouldn't decide to get off halfway and walk to her destination, like she had done some time ago. The shoes Andy chose for today weren't the most comfortable. No matter how much experience she had in running in high heels, she preferred to avoid it whenever she could. Especially since running alone was a completely different exercise than running after Miranda — the woman was setting such a pace that Andy couldn't catch her breath most of the time.

Once she was sure that Miranda wasn't going to say anything more, she opened the notebook she was gripping tightly, making both of her palms sweat a little, and opened it slowly. She even made sure that the pages didn't rustle too much. Even though her question was answered, she felt like she should have stayed quiet.

She opened her notebook to the page with their schedule for the day and scanned everything with her eyes. She was right, they had no plans to go to James Holt. It seemed that Miranda had decided to add another meeting herself. She checked the time again and made a mental note to call Donatella's assistant to postpone their meeting by an hour or two. If it was just a social thing, there shouldn't be a problem, but it was a collaboration with Versace, which made Andy even more anxious to make sure everything went according to plan.

She took a pen from her purse and wrote down a few things that came to her mind. Meetings that she would be able to postpone, and those that would possibly need to be moved to a completely different day. Andy had a good relationship with almost all of other assistants, and their phone numbers were innumerable on file with her. Emily made fun of her for all the friendly discussions she had with them, saying it was a waste of time, but Andy knew better. She was already associated as 'the nice one', which made people much more willing to help her and do favours.

She had already got to know this environment a bit, learned how it functioned and how various things were done. Still, even as Miranda's assistant, she assumed that being kind would help her a lot, and so far, it had worked.

"Are you always this nervous?" Miranda asked suddenly, and only after asking did she turn towards Andy and took off her sunglasses. "Or is this a recent development in your behaviour."

Andy, confirming her words, jumped slightly, not expecting that they would continue talking after all. Really, did she have to scare her like that?

She didn't want to think about why she was so nervous — it wasn't the first time they had a conversation, and yet...

"N-no. I don't think so." She stammered and cursed immediately in her head because she couldn't even control her voice.

"Hmm." Miranda hummed and looked at her so intently that Andy felt like she was an antelope about to be hunted and eaten alive. She ignored the shiver running down her spine. "So, have you suddenly got neurotic, or am I that terrible?"

Andy swallowed hard, not sure if there was a good answer to that. She felt like she was taking a test and the examiner asked her a trick question. She narrowed her eyes slightly, not bending under Miranda's intense gaze, and straightened up in her seat, closing her notebook, marking the page she was writing on with her finger.

"You're not scary." She answered slowly, in a tone that was a mixture of a whisper and something a little louder.

"No?" Miranda raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly, and if Andy didn't know better, she would have thought the woman was enjoying their conversation. But she was sure that Miranda just liked to embarrass her. "Many would disagree."

"I'm not 'many'." Andy said immediately and shrugged, feeling a sudden surge of courage.

Usually she had some idea what the best answer was, always calculating and weighing her words (she tried) before saying them out loud, but this time she was confident enough in her answer that she didn't hesitate.

Miranda looked carefully at her face, at first staring into her eyes, one, then the other. Then she moved on to her bangs, which fell slightly into Andy's eyes — it took all her might to hold back the trembling of her hand that wanted to immediately reach out and fix it in a nervous gesture. Then her gaze dropped to her cheeks and nose and Andy felt her heart start beating a little faster again, and the now familiar tightening feeling in her stomach made her bite her bottom lip as she usually did. Miranda caught the gesture immediately and her eyes almost glued to Andy's lips, she stared at it for a moment.

Andy prayed that Miranda wouldn't notice the blush slowly creeping up her face; from the chest to the tips of the ears.

The woman looked into her eyes again and must have noticed something, because she took a deep breath through her nose, and slowly turned her head back, staring at the city outside the window.

"No, I suppose you’re not."

Neither of them spoke the rest of the way. Andy wasn't sure whether she felt relief or disappointment. She liked the conversations with Miranda, because even though she was stressed to the point of physical pain during them, at the same time she felt a growing excitement. She wouldn't say their conversations were fluid enough to be friendly, but well, small steps... small steps.

She already felt special in a way. From Emily and Nigel's stories, but especially from her own experience, she knew how reluctant Miranda was to do anything resembling small talk. She wasn't sure if what they were doing qualified as that, given the nature of the exchanges and the topics discussed, but she thought any conversation longer than two minutes with Miranda was rather unusual. Anything that wasn't sending her to get coffee or telling her to plan her day, that is.

In addition, for some time now, Miranda has simply been nicer and more... human. She kept making her sarcastic and cutting edge comments, but Andy wouldn't have expected anything else. Most of the time she continued to be showered with mostly her negative emotions like impatience and general annoyance. However, there were moments like these where Miranda looked like she just needed to talk. For Andy, no matter how terrifying the whole process was, especially since she now found herself in this strange crush on this woman, it was very satisfying. She decided to make the most of each such moment, whatever it was.

Especially that Miranda seemed to have a thing for talking in the car.

They finally slowed down and Andy looked up from the schedule she had been working on the rest of the way and looked out the window — they were there.

She got out and, seeing that Miranda was reaching for her phone, purse and putting on her sunglasses, she ran around the car and even managed to open the door for her, just waving her head at Roy not to bother. She ignored another wave of thoughts that suddenly came to her, that not so long ago she had been tormented by these small gestures that she considered unnecessary. Now she enjoyed doing these things for Miranda.

The woman got out and walked towards the door, not giving Andy a single glance — back to normal.

Andy followed her after closing the door and smiled widely when she saw Nigel, Jocelyn, and Serena running up to them.

"Hi!" She waved at them, taking her time following Miranda, knowing she would have to wait downstairs to take the elevator separately anyway.

"Six! My God!" Nigel ran up out of breath and leaned on her shoulder with his elbow. "I'm too old for marathons like this."

Andy refrained from commenting that he had barely run across the street.

"Come on, she's already there." She laughed and nodded in greeting to the other two women.

"She'll be mad that you've kept her waiting." He stated and moved towards the door, holding it open for Andy.

"What are you-" She started slowly and frowned because...

"Are you done gossiping? Don't make me remind you that you're at work." Miranda said in a sharp tone and just entered the elevator, jerking her head at Andy to hurry up.

Her eyes widened, but she obediently ran a few steps and took a stand next to Miranda, sending one last glance towards Nigel, who was smiling slyly at her.

According to Andy, the presentation of James' next collection was not the worst. She didn't like everything, but when she glanced at Miranda's reactions out of the corner of her eye and compared them with her own, she came to the conclusion that she still had no idea about fashion. Some of these clothes were really nice in her opinion, others not so much. However, she didn't say a word, learned from experience after the first run-through she took part in.

She still didn't understand the concept of that pink dress with a blue belt, although she had to admit that it looked completely different in the photo.

"So? How's the planning going?" Nigel asked as Miranda moved aside to talk to James.

Andy shook her head and hunched over slightly.

"She still hasn't said a thing. Maybe she won't be going this year?"

Nigel snorted under his breath and patted her elbow lightly. Even though his theory wasn’t coming true at all so far, he was damn confident about it all.

"Please, I wouldn't be surprised if she took you with her." He said it so lightly and completely ignored Andy's shocked look. "She'll go, stop stressing."

"What is that?" Andy asked and dulled her voice to make sure no one heard them.

"What?"

"That weird confidence, and the belief that Miranda likes me more than-" She hoped with all her might that as long as she ignored her growing blush, Nigel wouldn't notice it either.

"I know her, Six, and I know you." Nigel interrupted her and turned fully, and looked at her with seriousness in his eyes. "Plus, I like to tease you sometimes, and your little crush is perfect for that."

Then he shamelessly left.

Andy didn't want to think how stupid she must have looked, opening and closing her mouth in shock at how Nigel had left her.

She'll kill Doug.

"Come along, Andrea, and stop with those under the sea impersonations." Miranda walked past her, an Andy almost choked when she heard her words, but she closed her mouth immediately.

Turns out that Miranda was really in the mood today, because as soon as they got into the car, she started complaining about the whole collection. This time Roy was also in on it and was listening to every word with a slight smile in the corner of his lips. He probably heard a lot of Miranda over the years.

"And that model... have you seen her lips, Andrea?" She asked shaking her head, clearly offended that she had to see all this.

Andy was pretty sure that it was a rhetorical question, but she cleared her throat quietly and said anyway;

"Yeah."

She was right — Miranda completely ignored her.

"Of course, I support the ability to present yourself according to your own taste..." That was reaching for the stars on her part. "But those were flotation devices if you ask me. If she's the one to walk in his show in which he wants to represent the natural beauty, then at least she won't drown in the sea of ​​bad press she'll get."

Roy made a strange noise from the front of the car, and when Andy caught his eye, she had to press her lips together and look out the window to keep from laughing. She was never a fan of making fun of others, but something about Miranda's tone made her unable to keep a straight face. She made an unspecified sound and felt her entire face turn red, especially since Roy followed her lead. Miranda turned towards them and looked from one to the other.

"Something funny?"

Andy immediately became serious, but she bit the inside of her cheeks with all her might. Taking a sharp breath, she turned towards Miranda and looked deep into her eyes, saying;

"Nope."

Miranda took a deep breath to probably comment sarcastically on her behaviour, but decided against it. She pinned her with her gaze for a few more seconds until she finally turned back around and continued her rant, looking out the window.

Andy glanced at Roy one more time and, eyes twinkling with laughter, they nodded at each other.

It's been a few hours since they returned to the office. Emily decided to be offended, so Andy didn't have a chance to talk much while she worked. Not that she ever had the opportunity to do so, but even the few exchanges throughout the day that didn't involve Runway businesses were a pleasant break, albeit a short one.

Now Andy was sitting in the corner of one of the rooms where meetings with branch heads were held. Miranda sat at the head of the table with one leg over the other, turned sideways with one hand resting on the table and the other resting on her knee, tapping slowly rhythmically with one finger.

The whole meeting wasn't going well, or at least that's what Andy could tell from Miranda's tense attitude. She had to admit that she had completely zoned out about ten minutes earlier. She focused entirely on Miranda's profile and, unsure when, began to draw its outlines. She sat upright in a chair against the wall. The notebook was placed on one of her laps. She supported it with her left hand, holding a pen in her right and moving it in short movements on the paper. By now she had the outline of the table and Miranda's legs, as well as a piece of her torso.

"Honestly, you people had so many hours to prepare a decent template for cooperation with Holt." Miranda's voice came to her and Andy found herself smirking. "I truly cannot understand how hard it can be for you, to think of something fresh."

“We, well-, we had this idea of ​​doing this beach shoot, since it’s-”

"Since it's what?" Miranda interrupted and pursed her lips. "Summer? Rather unexpected."

Jocelyn swallowed hard and Andy looked up for a moment. Her stomach tightened a little, thinking about how much stress this woman was under, especially now that she was pregnant.

She focused her eyes on Miranda again and went back to drawing.

"Are you free tonight?" Asked Nigel after what seemed thirty minutes later.

Andy jumped in place and closed her notebook quickly — she did it too nervously for it to look natural. She just hoped Nigel didn't stand over her for too long. She looked up at him and was met with raised eyebrows and a soft smile that could mean almost anything at that moment. She looked at him nervously and nodded, hoping he wouldn't make a sarcastic comment.

"Yeah, I am." She cleared her throat. "I just don't know what time Tom will come with the Book."

"Right." Nigel sucked in a breath and adjusted his glasses. "After today's meeting, I don't think they'll have much work to do with this. I'll wait with you because we need to talk about our secret project, sounds good?"

Andy rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse that was hanging on the back of the chair. She put the notebook inside and smiled at him.

"If you don't have a problem with waiting, then sure, but let me tell you right now that sometimes I stay here until 10pm." She raised a finger at him, and they left the now empty room together.

She didn't even notice when the meeting was over, being so focused on her drawing. She's almost finished with it, just a few details left.

"I know how it works, Six, I've been working here since Stone Age." He said sarcastically and Andy laughed loudly in response.

Andy's phone vibrated in her hand as she was on her way with Miranda's last coffee for the day. She had just been sent to pick her up, so she wasn't expecting any messages from Emily, and Miranda preferred calling, agreeing to text messages only when there was no other option.

She stopped on the cross walk when the light turned red, deciding she wasn't going to risk losing her fresh, hot coffee by running between moving cars. She looked at her phone and opened the latest messages and felt as if a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her.

'Nate: I'm home, can we talk?'

It was already after 7pm. Miranda was still in the office, as were a few other people. On top of all this, she made an appointment with Nigel because they clearly had something important to discuss.

As Andy crossed the street, she clutched the phone tightly in her hand and walked briskly towards the Elias-Clarke building. She decided to return the coffee first, and then hide in the toilet for a moment and text Nate something. She needed extra time to think about her answer. Of course, she was relieved that he had spoken up. After all, she loved him and wanted things to go back to normal between them, but the guilt, but also the freedom she had experienced these past few days weighed down on her uncomfortably... or maybe too… pleasantly.

Once on the right floor, she quickly brought coffee to Miranda and, not noticing her questioning look, quickly left and hid in the kitchen to reply.

She felt a stress churning in her stomach that she found completely incomprehensible. After all, this was Nate, her boyfriend, the guy she had spent almost five years of her life with and whom she knew very well. Still, with how shaky their relationship had become over the past few months, she no longer believed she could talk to him normally.

'Andy: I'll be really late, can we talk in the morning?'

She sent it quickly, before she could change her mind. That was good news, right? Honest, because she actually had no idea how long she would be at work, especially since Miranda was clearly in no hurry to get home. Plus, Nigel had some important information to tell her that couldn't wait, of course.

'Nate: figured.'

She swallowed and put her phone in her pocket when she heard footsteps approaching her. She turned her back to the door and opened one of the cabinets, pretending to be looking for something.

"Be right back, Em."

"I sent Emily home."

Andy tensed, although she hoped it wasn't too noticeable. She turned around quickly and smiled at Miranda without even controlling it any more. As if it was her body's natural reaction every time she saw her.

"Hi, umm, do you need something?" She asked with mock confidence and placed both hands on the counter behind her.

Miranda's gaze focused on her arms for a moment, then her hands, so Andy regained her composure and straightened, lowering her arms to her sides.

"No." Miranda said quickly, but then; "Yes, I want that tea of ​​yours."

Andy felt a warmth spread throughout her body, almost as intense as from her honey tea, and she felt the corners of her mouth begin to turn upwards even more.

She didn’t question the fact that she just got a coffee for her. If Miranda wanted both at the same time, Andy was going to deliver.

Miranda, on the other hand, looked a little uneasy for the first time, but Andy figured she was probably starting to hallucinate due to Nate's message and the amount of stress it was causing her.

"I'll do it for you." She assured and nodded to confirm her own words.

"Hurry."

Miranda almost flew out of the room.

Andy happily set about making the tea. It was somewhat of a calming process for her. While the water was boiling, and she had already prepared a cup of herbs and a jar of honey was next to her, her phone vibrated again, causing the same stress to wash over her again.

'Nate: I'll wait.'

Okay, she thought, and at that moment a little voice in her head started whispering to her that she would rather spend the whole night in the office. But she decided that she would do what she had to do and cancel her meeting with Nigel and go home as soon as possible... that is, when Miranda decided.

She poured the tea and stirred it a few times, having to wait awhile before adding the honey.

'Andy: Okay.'

She quickly put the phone down on the counter and clenched her jaw. She could have not replied at all, but then Nate might as well have blamed her for not responding to him. So, was it good that she answered?

Jeez, Andy thought, way too much overthinking.

She added two teaspoons of honey and left the kitchen, walked around her desk and quickly walked over to Miranda, who was sitting slightly leaning over her laptop.

It was getting darker and darker outside, so the orange light from the two lamps in the room was the only one, apart from the sharp white light coming from the laptop. It hit Miranda's face hard, making her wrinkles and unevenness much more visible than usual. Andy stopped for a moment, watching the woman. Of course, she noticed things like that, after all, Miranda was almost twenty years older than her, the differences in them were undeniable, not only in character, duh, but it didn't change the fact that even in the least favourable light, Miranda looked beautiful. Yes, much older for her age, but beautiful nonetheless.

Andy blinked, cursing herself in her head for not being able to control the red cheeks that had been appearing more and more frequently lately. She set the tea on the desk and waited all of three seconds to make sure Miranda didn't need anything else from her before she turned on her heel and headed back to her desk.

"Andrea."

Andy tried hard to hold back the wide smile that was trying to creep onto her face. She turned around quickly, eyes wide, hope on her face that she was needed for something.

Miranda looked up from the computer she had closed and straightened, making her face smooth out in a second as the light from the screen no longer hit her.

"You can go home. I will wait for the Book myself."

The smile she had been struggling with was now meekly gone, and she was sure she was starting to look like a grumpy child. She wanted to say something, she even took a breath, but;

"That's all."

Andy swallowed, nodded, and gathered her things. She wasn't in a position to argue about staying longer at work. God, how absurd that was, really. Of all the people working at Runway, Andy was probably the only one who worked so close to Miranda and wanted to stay by her side as long as possible.

Emily was a close second.

She took the elevator downstairs, the sound of her high heels echoing throughout the spacious interior of the lobby. Immediately after leaving, she turned right, heading to Rockefeller Center Metro Station. As she drove along, and with each stop she got closer to meeting Nate after a few days, the more she regretted that she hadn't argued about staying at work even until the morning.

"Hi." She whispered as she entered the apartment and immediately felt like punching herself in the head, so she repeated in a more confident voice; "Hi!"

She closed the door behind her and took off her shoes and walked deeper into the apartment. Nate sat on the couch and waited for her. Andy felt like a little girl for a moment. The old days when she came home late and found her father waiting in an armchair with one lamp on, straight from the movies. Nate now reminded her very much of that scene from the recesses of her memory.

She put her purse on the chair she was walking past and sat down on the other side of the couch, smiling only with the corners of her mouth lifting. Nate looked at her with a serious face, and for a moment Andy thought he might want to break up with her. The worst thing about it, however, was that she didn't know whether she would cry in despair or breathe a sigh of relief.

She didn't want to find out.

"Okay." Nate cleared his throat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I-, it won't work if it's gonna be like that all the time."

Andy hummed and tucked one leg under her, sitting back and getting ready for a long conversation. She didn't speak for now, deciding that she would only speak up when Nate asked her a question directly. She had no intention of taking over the narrative from the very beginning because she had no idea what was going on in her boyfriend's head.

Nate ruffled his hair and took a deep breath, straightening up and turning towards her, holding both hands out in front of him — as if he were explaining something to a child.

"Before you say anything, I understand that you have your job and I have mine. I really do." He looked at her and pinned her down, as if to make sure she heard every word he said clearly. "My problem is that in recent months you have completely abandoned the priorities that previously guided you in life. Her recommendation will help you start your career, and that's great, but I wouldn't-, I want to be a part of that as well. I love you, Andy, you're the love of my life and I want to be present when big things will be happening for you, but you're pushing me away, and I don't get it."

Andy blinked twice at him and bit the inside of her cheek, feeling tears forming in her eyes. They had been together for so many years and until now they had never had to have this type of conversation. She could almost see the end of their relationship on the horizon, which she really didn't want. She was used to him, to what they created and shared.

"Nate-"

"No, let me finish." Nate interrupted her immediately and Andy nodded. "I don't expect you to spend all your free time with me. You have your friends, I have mine, and that's okay. What I'm saying, is that I want at least some time with you. I get that your job is demanding, because that woman is mental and don't you disagree." He added firmly and raised a finger, seeing that Andy was already ready to defend Miranda from his words, no matter that she couldn't hear them. "She is, and you know that. You're basically working 24/7, and for some reason you're okay with that and that's what's pissing me off. I'm your boyfriend, you're my girlfriend, and I think I'm really not asking for much to have at least one evening with you."

Andy nodded and quickly wiped the tears from both cheeks and squeezed her eyes shut. He was right, as much as she wanted to disagree, she knew that he was right. After some time, she began to feel strangely disgusted and was constantly impatient with him, when in fact he wasn't doing anything wrong, right? Andy was never a walking ideal; she has always been too shy, unable to fight for herself. For as long as she could remember, she had been stubborn, but only in the depths of her own mind and overly perfectionist. However, she was always convinced that her relationship views were truly healthy and self-aware. But now it turned out that she was a terrible girlfriend, because how else could you describe her behaviour? She was already at the point where she was going home, hoping that Nate would still be working or had already been in bed for a long time. She avoided him whenever she could, but she was too much of a coward to just end the relationship and stop tormenting both herself and him.

She approached it in a much more practical way than she should have, even financially, because they rented an apartment together and it didn't matter that it was Lower Manhattan — the prices were too high for her to be able to support herself. Andy continued to live with Nate out of sheer comfort and security, and the knowledge that she had someone to return to, even if she would prefer him to be absent from the apartment forever.

She was so awful, and she knew it, but she just couldn't do it.

"Nate, I'm so sorry." She whispered, and these words were sincere among all the others she had fed him so far. "I'm-, I really am. I want to change, no!, I will change."

She knew she probably wouldn't, but was else could she do?

"Andy, I just want to be with you, I respect the fact that you're working and you take it seriously, but I need you to put some effort into us."

"I know." Andy assured quickly and leaned forward, grabbing his hands and squeezing. "I'll change."

She knew that she didn't really want to change at all. She didn't think she should change for other people, that she wasn't doing anything at all, but what else could she tell him? She fed him more lies that she knew he wanted to hear — anything to take this relationship even further, because she couldn’t let go.

She was being selfish and stupid, but was else was she supposed to do?

"What's wrong with you?"

Andy looked up from the keyboard and looked at Emily in surprise.

"Nothing."

Emily rolled her eyes and stood up from behind her desk, grabbing some papers as she did so.

"Please, you're not your overzealous and talkative self."

Andy wasn't sure whether to be offended or touched by the fact that Emily seemed to care about her in her own unique way. She was honestly curious whether it was some kind of handshake from the British woman and an invitation to, for lack of a better word, friendship or just plain malice.

One, of course, did not exclude the other.

She straightened up and quickly finished writing the email, and at the same time Emily, already silent, walked past her and stood next to the printer, turning it on. Andy made her decision and turned in her chair towards the redhead, who was pointedly ignoring her.

"It's Nate."

Emily's cheek twitched, she blinked twice, and looked at Andy appraisingly with a particularly pouty face.

"Of course it is." She snorted. "You're dating an idiot."

Andy closed her jaw quickly as it dropped slightly in response to Emily's directness. She stammered a few times, not sure how to even answer that.

You would think that if someone said that about Miranda, she would jump at that person's throat before they finished the sentence.

Funny how those little unimportant crushes work.

Emily, on the other hand, walked away from the printer with her nose up in the air and returned to her seat and looked at Andy hard.

"I've heard enough about him because you just can't shut up." She started and rolled her eyes so hard that Andy was afraid for a moment that she would go blind. "But from what I heard, the guy should be thrown away with the morning rubbish."

Damn.

"I can't just throw a five-year relationship out the window, Em."

The British woman looked at her sharply, most likely because of the hated abbreviation of her name, but it only lasted a moment.

"Yes, you can."

Andy, this time genuinely interested in Emily's approach to the whole matter, found herself actually curious about Emily's approach to the situation. She talked to Doug a lot, but felt she needed a fresh perspective on the whole thing. It would also be useful when it comes to Miranda situation, but she would rather gouge her eyes out with Saint Yves Laurent heels than say even one word to Emily about it.

"It's not that easy…"

"Yes it is." Emily said firmly. "You look at him, you say it’s over and you move on."

"Yeah, but-"

"He's a bloody moron." Emily growled. "You work at Runway, for some reason, and if he has a problem with that, then you don't need him to make your polyester life even sadder."

Andy swallowed and blinked at Emily, who somehow made more sense than any other topic she'd ever heard. She took the pen from the desk and twirled it twice in both hands, needing to grab onto something for even the slightest sense of comfort.

She wanted to tell Doug many times why she really hadn't been able to break up with Nate, but she knew her friend wouldn't take it well. She knew her attitude was selfish and materialistic and disgusting. She felt bad enough about herself and didn't even want to imagine the look she would get from Doug.

Emily, however, was something completely different and started the topic herself. It seemed like she had her own opinion about Andy's love life, so you could say she came up with that herself. Who else would understand her if not the redhead?

"Okay, let's say I brake up with him..." She began slowly, looking at Emily, who seemed surprised by the sudden break in silence — a moment had passed since she had said anything. "What then?"

"What when?"

"Well... after. We rent an apartment together, I won't be able to afford to live in any part of Manhattan on my-"

"So you're with him for the money." Emily smirked and even stopped typing, instead turning fully to face Andy. "Bloody hell, Andy I would never suspect that you of all people-"

"It's not like that!" Andy interrupted her indignantly, letting out a shaky breath and quickly breaking eye contact. She wasn't ready for how much worse it would all sound when she said it out loud. "I-, I just have to consider… other things."

"You'll be fine." Emily waved her hand and smiled, perhaps even a little pleasantly. "I'll help you look for something viable."

As if nothing had happened, she returned to work and Andy was thoroughly shocked. Of all people, Emily was the one who didn't judge her.

The world was really ending.

"Bag." Andy jumped up from her seat and quickly handed her purse to Miranda, who was standing impatiently at her desk. "Come along."

Without waiting for any reaction from Andy, Miranda moved forward quickly. The brunette ran a few steps until she caught up with her and called the elevator for her.

"We're going to Donatella's. She has a new collection that she'll be exhibiting at New York Fashion Week, and she wants to know my opinion."

Andy nodded, accepting Miranda's explanation, which she wouldn't dare ask herself. Recently, the woman must have recognized that her assistants were lacking adrenaline, because she was more and more often going to meetings that were not previously scheduled.

The elevator rang, and this time Andy followed Miranda inside without a second thought, accustomed to her presence being desired for some time. Miranda barely smirked, but didn't say a word, which Andy took in stride. No matter that they had shared elevator rides the last few times, she shouldn't assume that she could just go in.

She quickly pulled her phone out of her purse and texted Roy, hoping he was nearby or waiting for them downstairs.

'Roy: I'm on the upper side, it'll take around 30 minutes.'

Andy swallowed under her breath and gathered all her strength. She turned to Miranda after a few seconds to tell her that Roy wouldn't be able to drive for the next half hour. She realized at the last minute that she could write to the replacement driver. This wasn't an ideal solution because Miranda took a liking to Roy and didn't like riding with anyone else. Still, it was a better solution than standing in front of the building's entrance and waiting like ordinary, grey people.

She sent a text and prayed for a quick response. At that moment the elevator doors rang and Miranda moved quickly forward with Andy trying to keep up. As she ran, she almost bent down to kiss the ground when her phone vibrated;

'Weird Matt: Sorry, kiddo, I'm in London at the moment.'

"Fuck." She mumbled and almost rammed into Miranda, who stopped abruptly and looked left and right.

"Andrea." She started slowly and finally turned to her with a look of complete boredom. "Tell me how is that possible that I don't see Roy waiting for us."

Andy looked apologetic again and looked around quickly, as if hoping that Roy would magically materialize in front of them.

"I-, I'm really sorry, Miranda, I texted Roy, but he's in another part of town, it'll take him thirty minutes to get here." She said quickly, figuring it was better to get it out as quickly as possible than to drag it out unnecessarily. Miranda's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she was about to open her mouth to say something, so Andy quickly added; "I also was just texting Matt, and he's unavailable."

Miranda closed her mouth with a soft click and clenched her jaw, her eyes pinning Andy to the ground.

"He can't be unavailable. I don't pay him to be unavailable."

Andy, if it had been any other person, she would have laughed at the truly genuine incomprehension in her voice. She almost looked like a dissatisfied child whose mother refused to give her candy. It was adorable in a way.

What?

"Well he's in London, so pretty much unavailable." Andy replied, and it wasn't until she heard her own words out loud that she realized she was actually talked back.

Miranda sensed it too, because her gaze hardened again and the previous traces of slight annoyance disappeared, replaced by concrete nervousness.

"What for?"

Andy blinked twice, because she now remembered quite well that Miranda had sent him there herself, thinking that he was irritating her being so close. She really didn't like him.

"He was annoying."

Honesty is sometimes the best solution, Andy thought. She didn't dare break eye contact with Miranda, who widened her eyes slightly at her answer and moved her head back, as she usually did when something surprised her. Andy was sure she was about to get the beating of the century, but Miranda instead snorted quietly under her breath and jerked her hand slightly to look at the time on her watch.

Andy quickly realized that this was the moment when she should come up with some solution. She took two steps forward, past Miranda, who pretended to ignore her and looked around the street. One thought came to her mind, but she didn't think Miranda would agree to something like that. It didn't matter that the distance wasn't big.

The more she thought about it, there was absolutely no point in calling Roy when the Versace office was only five blocks away.

Andy turned back to Miranda, who was now standing with one hand on her hip, leaning her weight on one leg. Her face showed impatience.

"We, umm..." She cleared her throat. "We could walk."

Miranda smiled at her in that way that was reserved for people whose company she could barely stand, and Andy felt her entire stomach twist.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I'm just sayin'..." She mumbled quickly and looked at her shoes. However, she quickly remembered that she was not six, but twenty-six, and added louder; "It's only ten minutes from here, so we could walk. Otherwise, we'll be late."

Miranda blinked twice, clenched her jaw, and glanced to her right, nodding.

"Fine." It was said in a tone that felt almost like a slap on the cheek with an open hand. "Lead the way."

Andy took a deep breath and started walking with Miranda, still in disbelief that they were about to walk the streets of New York together.

Well, maybe not exactly a walk, but it was such a pleasant thought that she decided to look at the situation that way. She just hoped Miranda would start talking about something because she didn't want to imagine the level of awkwardness she would feel. Andy liked to talk to everyone and about everything. The idea of ​​walking side by side with someone for ten minutes without saying a word seemed terrifying.

They started at quite a fast pace. They neatly passed people walking in the opposite direction, or at least Andy had to, which kept her one step behind Miranda. People seemed to recognize her, and even if they didn't, this woman had such an aura about her at all times, that people dispersed to let her pass almost instinctively. As if they knew better than to take the risk.

Over time, however, they slowed down, and she smirked under her nose — even Miranda gets tired sometimes. Especially since, in Andy's humble opinion, the older woman probably drove everywhere by car. No wonder she was so shocked at the suggestion of going for a walk.

"Do you have something to take notes?"

Duh.

"Of course, I also took the mock-ups they sent to us two days ago. Donatella's assistant said that some changes were made during sewing and to take them for comparison."

She made it up on the spot just to score some points. Yes, she had got a call about the changes that had been made after the two women's last lunch together, but Andy didn't think an actual comparison was necessary. She just needed a reason why she actually took them with her and had to wear them. So much time working for Miranda, she became paranoid in a sense — wanting to be prepared for whatever may happen.

"Good." Miranda replied, although her tone seemed a little distant.

Andy glanced at her, slightly worried, not sure what she should expect now. It was the first time she saw Miranda outside her natural habit. This woman, despite being dubbed the queen of New York, either by people in the industry or perhaps by the magazine's readers, looked strange on the streets of this city. It's true that many people here stood out for their appearance, every second person looked more interesting than the previous one. Miranda, however, stood out in a completely different way — everyone could tell that people like her should be hidden behind the windows of a private car rather than use their legs.

Looking at her own clothes, it occurred to Andy that while it certainly could have been a matter of clothing, that wasn't the only thing. After all, she also wore the most expensive brands. This didn't make people turn after her in the same way they did after Miranda, even though statistically it was impossible for everyone to know exactly who the older woman was. After all, Andy was the best, living example of the fact that there are people living under a rock who have never heard of Miranda.

Clothes definitely helped build an image, there was no doubt about it, and the truth was that there was just something about Miranda that made others want to follow her with their eyes.

Andy felt a sudden knot in her stomach at the thought and began to notice how many people were actually following Miranda with their eyes. Doug would probably laugh at her if he saw the kind of jealousy that had suddenly blossomed in her, but Andy couldn't help it. She was worried about her, and over the last few months, especially since the terrible discovery that her boss was an attractive woman, she had developed a strange protective instinct towards her.

"What?" Miranda snapped, breaking Andy from her thoughts.

She looked at the woman with a frown, because she was sure that they hadn't spoken to each other until now, so she couldn't have missed anything. She just hoped she hadn't unconsciously said anything out loud.

"Huh?" She uttered stupidly. "I-, I didn't say anything."

Miranda rolled her eyes and glanced at her quickly, but then returned her gaze to the sidewalk in front of them.

"You want to ask something, so ask. I can almost see the thoughts swirling around in that little head of yours."

Andy knew she only had a few seconds to think of something, because she would rather throw herself in front of a car than admit what she was thinking. It was one thing to think that she didn't like the way other people looked at Miranda, but it was another thing to say it out loud. She knew exactly what it would sound like and the last thing she wanted was to actually hear it echo.

She was starting to panic, knowing how impatient Miranda was, and as she was opening her mouth, still hoping something would come to her mind, a guy walking from the opposite direction, talking on the phone, nudged Miranda as he passed by. The woman turned around after him, clearly agitated.

"Excuse me." She said and the man turned around and looked her up and down.

He said a few words to the person he was talking to, then hung up and walked over to them. Andy felt her whole body tense and almost instinctively she took a step forward, standing slightly in front of Miranda.

"Do i know you?" He asked and his mocking smile was making Andy shake his fist.

Miranda looked at him with a cold stare that turned people to stone from top to bottom twice, assessing what he was wearing;

"No, definitely not." Her voice was filled with contempt and outright ridicule of him.

"Then what's your problem, lady?" He grunted and Andy clenched her jaw.

"Watch your tone." Andy muttered under her breath, unable to help herself but not wanting to intrude on their unpleasant interactions without a specific signal from Miranda.

She began to look around discreetly, seeing if anyone was paying attention to them. She didn't count on any possible help from passers-by — it was New York. She was more worried about PR issues, because the last thing she wanted was to read on Page Six the next day about Miranda Priestly terrorizing residents on the streets.

Neither the guy nor Miranda actually heard Andy's silent warning. He stood there scanning Miranda in such a disgusting way that, despite her aversion to violence, she wanted to punch him square in the jaw to wipe that irritating smile from his face. Miranda, on the other hand, took a step forward;

"You bumped me. Watch where you walk." She said and turned around, wanting to get away from this whole situation and finally reach the Versace office.

Andy waited a moment, watching the guy carefully, and she did the right thing, because at that moment he took a step forward and reached out, reaching for Miranda's shoulder.

"Oh yeah? How about I'll do something e-"

"I don't think so." Andy quickly stood in front of him, blocking the way for him to approach Miranda.

He lowered his hand and now focused his gaze on Andy, who stood straight without breaking eye contact.

Even if she had to start throwing punches, there was simply no way she could pull away at this point. At that moment she was angry at him for not being able to apologize and move on, and at Miranda for not being able to simply ignore it and not comment on the whole situation. If Andy had to react every time someone bumped her on the street, she would be banned from the city for life.

"Andrea?" Miranda's voice came from behind her, and she knew the woman had walked up to her and wanted to stand next to her, but Andy held her left hand out to her side to signal her to stay behind.

"And who are you? Her guard dog?" He laughed at his own joke, which, according to Andy, did not bode well for him in a successful career in comedy. "Tell the bitch, that I don't care who she is, and she better take the stick out of her ass."

Andy saw red at that moment, and reacting completely on instinct, she swung and hit him in the jaw so hard that he staggered. Miranda gasped, and if Andy hadn't been so focused on the guy leaning over and now holding his face, she would have heard the woman curse loudly behind her, too shocked to say anything else.

"Have a nice day, sir." Andy spat and turned around, placing her hand on Miranda's back, pushing her slightly away from the scene.

You got to love New York for how little people in this city actually care about what's happening in front of them.

The first minute passed in silence between them. Andy felt her hand begin to throb uncomfortably and send stinging signals down the length of her arm. Miranda, on the other hand, didn't comment on the whole situation, instead she walked quickly, allowing Andy to be much closer than usual.

Two streets away they finally arrived. They went inside and, as usual, Andy went to the receptionist to make a call upstairs to inform them of their arrival. After confirming, they both walked towards the elevators, and as soon as they entered one and the doors closed behind them, Miranda turned to her abruptly, her eyes the colour of a stormy sea.

"What were you thinking?" She hissed and tugged at Andy's hand, lifting it up to look at it from every angle. "Can't you handle anything in a civilized way?"

Andy didn't say a word, just coming to herself and waking up as if from the strange trance she was in. She had no idea she had something like this inside her. Hitting people had never been her way of life, but at that moment she felt like she couldn't react any other way.

Miranda glared at her, still holding her hand in both of hers, and despite the harsh words and rough tone, her fingers touched Andy's knuckles so gently that she could barely feel it.

"Now you don't have anything to say?" She added and looked up from Andy's hand to her face. “First you punch people and then you just don't talk?"

"You didn't see it, but he was trying to grab you." Andy replied calmly, not sure what her voice even sounded like. She felt so many things at once that she couldn't control the tone of her words. "The things he was saying were-"

"I've heard worse." Miranda cut her off and let both of their hands hang loosely downwards, but she still didn't release Andy's hand from her gentle grip. "It's not a reason for you to punch people on the street."

She was worried, and shocked and was breathing heavily with cheeks slightly red. Andy, no matter how hard she tried, had no clue as to what Miranda could be thinking at the moment. She was completly focused on that weird expression on Miranda's face and how her chest was moving with each deep breath.

"Yes it is." Andy replied immediately, not even sure where this sudden confidence had come from. "On my first day Emily told me that nobody's allowed to touch Miranda Priestly, and he tried to do just that."

Miranda blinked twice, surprised by her words, as if it was the first time she had ever heard about it. If Andy didn't know better, she swore there was a hint of sadness in the older woman's eyes. But why? It was one of the first things Emily told her, and Andy stuck to it faithfully. In all the months she had spent in Runway, she had only had any physical contact with Miranda a handful of times, and it had been completely accidental; for example, when they were walking side by side in the corridors and their shoulders brushed against each other when they turned a corner. That was it.

So why the sudden surprise?

At that moment, Andy realized that Miranda was still holding her hurting hand, which immediately began to burn, causing her cheeks to become redder and redder. Her first reaction was to almost tear her hand away from her gentle grip, but she held back with all her strength, feeling that it would only make the situation worse.

"Of course." Miranda suddenly spoke much quieter, and her voice seemed much weaker.

At that moment, her eyes landed on their joined hands, and she immediately let go of Andy, moving half a step to her left.

"Miranda?" Andy asked hesitantly, feeling her earlier confidence slip away from her without being able to catch it again.

The elevator doors rang, Miranda touched her hand to her forehead once and twice and moved forward without a word towards Donatella's office. Andy obediently followed right behind her, taking out a notebook from her purse as she went. The older woman stopped right in front of the door, her hand on the doorknob, and looked up at Andy. There was no longer any trace of the previous emotions and a kind of worry and disbelief. Her mask was in place, spotless. Her eyes were cold and calculating and Andy had a strange feeling that she had said something wrong, but what?

Besides assulting someone.

"We'll talk about it later. Go and do something about that hand, then come in here." She said and pushed the door and went inside.

Andy jerked backwards as she almost got hit in the nose with the door. She clenched her jaw tightly and looked around for the bathroom, which she immediately went to. She yanked hard on the doorknob, using much more force than necessary, but she was nervous.

Miranda was the first and most likely the only person for whom Andy would react in such a way solely out of concern for her safety. The woman did not have private security on a daily basis, repeating that she did not need it at all and in fact she had not so far. Only larger events, during which she is forced to walk through crowds of people, is she assigned security guards. Yes, she might not need someone like that on a daily basis, since she usually went everywhere with Roy, but that wasn't the point. Andy had no intention of arranging someone like that for Miranda, knowing that the guy would lose his job before he could get a good start, or get laid off after his first meeting with Miranda.

But what was Andy supposed to do? He may not have been aggressive, but the moment he held out his hand and tried to grab Miranda was the moment Andy felt her insides do somersaults with nerves that he could actually do something to her. It's true that she hit him only after making a disgusting comment, but what did it really matter?

She stood in front of the mirror and leaned against the sink, turning on the icy water and placing her right hand just under the strong stream. She immediately felt her muscles tense uncomfortably, but she didn't pull away.

"Ugh..." she moaned and leaned her head back, shifting her weight from one leg to the other and closing her eyes.

Her parents had always taught her that violence was not the answer, and of course she agreed with that, but at that moment, this guy had made her so furious that she only had time to blink and let her fist decide to act on its own. Of course, she could have handled it differently, she was already starting to feel guilty and hoped she would never run into him on the street. However, Andy knew that if she could turn back time, she would probably react the same way.

She hissed as she turned her hand slightly and the strong jet was now hitting the exact two knuckles that had hit the guy's jaw the hardest.

In this whole stupid situation, what she was most concerned about right now was Miranda's reaction to it all. She didn't say anything bad — only the truth. The fact that a woman likes her personal space and does not invite anyone to it is a generally known and accepted fact, so why this sudden distance? Especially since moments before she had held Andy's injured hand in her own with such care that Andy felt her cheeks turn red again just thinking about it.

They held hands for the first time and probably the last. Of course, it happened like that, because Andy couldn't control herself and attacked the other man with her fists, she thought bitterly.

She opened her eyes, turned off the water and took a piece of paper towel, placing it on her bruised knuckles, which were starting to turn purple. She threw the used paper into the bin in the corner and left the room, wiggling her fingers and making sure nothing was broken. It hurt like hell, but there was no way she was going to the doctor right now to make sure she was okay. She knew her body well enough to know it was just upholstery.

She grabbed the door handle to the office through which Miranda had previously disappeared and entered quietly. Donatella was working on one of the dresses already put on the model, and Miranda was sitting on the couch in the corner of the room, watching closely. Andy moved closer and sat on the other corner of the couch, glancing at the older woman now and then paranoid, assessing how angry she was.

"Show it to me." She said and Andy almost jumped in fear at how sharp her voice had become.

She moved closer and stuck her hand out towards Miranda, making sure that Donatella was still not paying any attention to them.

"Go to the doctor to have it looked at." She said now quietly, and with a slight hesitation grabbed Andy's hand again, turning it in every direction, examining it carefully.

"It's nothing, really, it barely hur-"

Miranda shot her a sharp look and, grabbing Andy's wrist with one hand, placed Andy's hand on her knee and waved her own in dismissal.

"Make yourself useful and take out something to make notes, or I'll send you to London too."

Andy smirked and bit her lower lip as she reached for her notebook, not noticing the quick glance Miranda gave them and the small smile that lurked at the corners of her own mouth.

"What the hell did you do?" Doug almost screamed and his eyes looked like they were about to fall out.

Andy yanked her hand from his grasp right after she set the mug of wine (she still hadn't bought the right glasses) on the table and sat down on the other side of the couch, tucking her legs under her.

"Nothing."

She gave him a bored look and reached for a piece of chocolate, stuffing as much as she could into her mouth.

"Don't bullshit me, Andy, it looks awful." He said, took a sip of wine and turned to face her more. "Oh, come on! Who did you beat up?"

Andy sighed, swallowed the chocolate, drank some wine, and smiled wryly at her friend, who was almost shaking with excitement at what he might hear.

"Okay, but hush! Nate doesn't know." She whispered and moved a little closer, glancing towards the bathroom.

"So what did you tell him?" He asked and grabbed her hand gently and Andy couldn't help but compare how much rougher his touch was compared to Miranda's. "Because it's not something you can easily hide."

"I told him I got my hand caught in the heavy door." She shrugged and tapped Doug's shoulder lightly when she saw him look at her with pity.

"There's no way he believed that."

"He didn't question it." She shrugged again, and with her right hand still in his grasp, she reached for the second cup of wine with her left hand and took a sip.

"So, what did you do?"

"I punched a guy."

Doug's eyes doubled in size, and he leaned slightly towards her, now glancing towards the bathroom himself, and lowered his voice even more;

"Oh my God, Andy!" He whispered and laughed brokenly, covering his mouth with his hand. "Why?"

Andy bit her lower lip and shook her head slightly, looking down. There was no good way to say it and avoid the sly smile that was sure to appear on her friend's lips. Doug became the number one fan of his own theory that Andy was a lesbian who had a thing for older women and one day she'll nail Miranda. She felt her cheeks turn bright red just thinking about it, because despite her small crush, the last category she thought about Miranda was related to sex. In fact, sex and Miranda were so far apart in Andy's mind that she couldn't imagine the older woman having anything to do with... that.

Doug, seeing her reaction and continued lack of comment, laughed brokenly.

"What, you were playing the knight in the shining armour for your queen?" He asked and Andy felt her eyes widen, looking up at her friend. He looked at her for a few seconds, until his eyebrows went up almost to his hairline and a wide smile appeared on his face. "Oh God, you totally were!"

Andy whined and removed her hand from his grip, covering her face with both of them instead.

"Damn, girl, I would never, in a million years-" She rolled her eyes. "- expect something like that from you! Now you have to tell me!"

"There's nothing to-" She sighed and leaned sideways against the back of the couch. "Someone tried to grab her and called her a bitch in front of us, so I reacted."

Doug sat with his mouth open, still unable to believe what he was hearing. Andy had already come to terms with how she had behaved to some extent, although her aching hand reminded her at least several times a day how stupid she could be sometimes.

"That's hot." He said, and Andy, feeling her face burning, hit him twice with the pillow and went to hide in the kitchen. "How is she not in love with you yet?"

She ignored the butterflies buzzing in her stomach.

Andy hissed under her breath once again and put the pen down to twitch her fingers for a moment. In the end, she didn't go to the doctor because she had absolutely no time for it. Instead, she bought a cooling ointment to relieve her bruised hand. However, it turned out that the ointment smelled so bad that Miranda would have broken her arm and put it in a cast rather than let her use it at work. So she ended up putting a lot of concealer on her hand to avoid questions.

Emily glanced at her with slight disgust on her face every time Andy made a sound, but for once she decided not to comment. She wasn't sure if she was grateful for it or on the contrary, because on the one hand she didn't want to brag about the situation from two days ago, and on the other, in the redhead's eyes she must have looked even more stupid than before.

Miranda also did not comment. It wasn't like Andy expected the woman to spare her at work and kiss her hand every time she pulled something, but Andy had expected… something. She wasn't able to specify it herself. She was only sure that Roy had found out about the whole situation because when they were driving through the city together the previous day, he kept smiling at her in the mirror that way. Sometimes she had the feeling that he and Doug secretly knew each other and were talking about her, because until now, despite her good relationship with Miranda's driver, he had never given her such looks. Andy felt very exposed, because knowing that Doug knew everything was one thing, and even having Nigel notice something was nothing she couldn't handle. Roy, however, was close to Miranda on a completely different level, having worked for her for almost a decade, and if he suspected anything, then Andy would be damned.

Not that he would say anything, but he spent so much time alone in the car with Miranda, who apparently talks about her a lot, that Andy would be constantly stressed that something would slip out. Even if their conversations consisted of Miranda simply monologuing.

"I have something for you!" Nigel announced and walked briskly towards her with a pair of chocolate, sky-high stilettos.

"What's that?"

"Shoes, Andy, Jimmy Choo at that. Really after all this time..."

She rolled her eyes and reached for one with her left hand and started looking at it from every angle. They were really beautiful.

"I have similar ones at home."

Nigel sighed heavily and placed the other shoe in front of her, leaning his arm on her desk. A proud smile on his face and his eyes full of anticipation for her reaction.

"No, the ones you have are two shades darker, those would go beautifully with the Chanel I gave you last week." He assured and raised one eyebrow. "Having too many shoes is not a thing. Try them on."

Andy smiled crookedly at him and stood up from her seat, reaching for the shoes and putting them on her feet. Emily snorted from her seat at all their interaction, but Andy pretended she didn't hear it. The shoes really were something else.

She took two steps to her left so Nigel could look at her, and he tapped his chin twice while nodding.

"I'm a genius." He said and Andy laughed in response.

She couldn't help but glance towards Miranda's office, curious to see if the woman was listening to their conversation. She knew, of course, that she could hear everything that went on outside her office — there was no way to avoid it, since her door was always wide open, and with a lot of open space, sound carried.

Andy had long known that of all the people she had in her life, it was Miranda she needed and counted on the most for acceptance. The woman somehow became the person Andy orbited around. Not only in terms of being her assistant, and therefore her life was centred around her — that was obvious. However, she often found that even in mundane things, activities or topics that had nothing to do with her, there was always at least one thought about what Miranda would have to say on a given matter.

She took a step forward to get a better look at her and quickly bit her lip when she noticed that Miranda was, in fact, watching them closely. Nigel must have caught something because he raised his eyebrows and muttered something unspecified under his breath. He turned to Miranda and added louder;

"I'll steal her from you for a moment!" He grabbed Andy's arm and was about to pull her along when suddenly;

"What for?"

Nigel froze in place, as did Andy, who glanced at Emily, who was smiling cheekily to herself without even looking up at them.

"Just for a moment, Miranda, I need her help with something." He said and turned to Miranda, smiling so forcefully that there was no way the woman would buy it.

Miranda glared at them sharply, but then waved her hand dismissively.

"Make it quick."

"As you wish." Nigel bowed, causing Andy to giggle softly, and quickly pulled her along before Miranda could change her mind.

"What are we doing?" She whispered, even though they were already out of Miranda's earshot.

Without a word, Nigel pushed her into his office and closed the door. Traces of his earlier smile were completely gone. He sat her down on one of the tall, round stools and stood on the other side of the table.

"What are you doing?" He put his arms across his chest.

Suddenly it all got really serious and Andy wasn't comfortable at all.

"What do you mean?"

"You and Miranda."

Her eyes opened wider, and she couldn't help but blush a little at the impact of his statement.

"I-, what are you asking?"

Nigel sighed and took off his glasses, setting them on the table. The look on his face was so tired and somehow disappointed that he suddenly looked ten years older.

"Andy, I know it's none of my business and you're an adult, but I'll say it once and you can do with that information what you want. I'm not your father, it's your life, but as your fairy godmother, I feel I have an obligation to you to say it."

"Okay…?"

"She's twenty years older than you, what the hell are you doing?"

Andy swallowed hard, being so shocked that she couldn't react otherwise. She's so going to kill Doug. Not only for talking about it with Nigel — she shouldn't have introduced them — but so far he had only stirred up all these complicated feelings in her. Through it all, she couldn't gather her thoughts to respond in any concrete way.

"Nigel, I'm really confused right now."

Nigel clenched his jaw and sniffed. He finally reached for the other chair and placed it right next to Andy, sitting next to her so close that their knees were almost touching.

"You're not the first to fall for her, Andy." He started slowly, and she felt as if she had been hit in the back of the head with something large and hard. “I’ve known Miranda since I can remember and I’m telling you that it’s not going to end well.”

"Nigel-"

"She's a really smart lady, but for Miranda to notice that someone likes her, another miracle has to happen. She's blind to such things, completely unaware that someone could actually fall in love with her."

"Fall in love? That's-, I'm not-" She could barely catch the words that she so desperately needed at the moment to defend herself.

"That said, once she will, she's gonna kick your ass and send you to Alaska."

Andy was breathing heavily now, not at all ready to have this conversation with him. She hadn't had time to come to terms with the idea that she thought Miranda was an attractive woman, but this was about love. The last thing she felt for Miranda was romantic love! Well, maybe not the last thing, but she definitely wasn't in love and, for sure, not interested in doing so in any future.

Crushing on her was normal, Doug said, there was nothing wrong with that. Andy was convinced that it could never, would never go any further than that. What Nigel was saying was so ridiculous that she felt herself laugh shortly, feeling so awkward and uncomfortable that she couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Nigel." She said finally with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I'm not in love with Miranda. Yes, she is really pretty, but it doesn't mean anything! Why are you saying all of this?"

Nigel smiled at her indulgently, which she noticed as soon as she looked up at him. He took both of her hands in his and squeezed lightly, and Andy tried hard not to make a sound at the pain.

"You're basically drooling every time you look at her." He said matter of fact.

"I don't!"

She really hoped she didn't.

"Yes, you do." He rolled his eyes. “I get that, I really do, but I’m warning you right now, that she’s not a good person to fall for.”

Andy suddenly felt really offended also on Miranda's behalf. What was that supposed to mean? Who was he to determine whether she could or not fall in love with someone? He sounded as if he was convinced that Miranda was not a lovable person, and in Andy's eyes it seemed really hurtful. Especially that he called himself the very best friend of the woman. If Andy was in love, and she definitely wasn't, she'd be lucky to have Miranda even look at her in passing. She sure as hell seemed very loveable to Andy, thank you very much.

"Okay. I'm going now." She said and slowly started to stand up, looking at everything but him. "I'm gonna pretend that we didn't have that conversation."

"Andy, wait." Nigel said and she stopped now facing the door. "I just want you to be careful. If it is as you say, then great, but remember what I said. She'll hurt you. Use you, and then hurt you because she doesn't know how to do anything else. "

She didn't answer him, instead leaving and closing the door quietly behind her. She wanted to slam them, but they were made of glass, and she didn't earn enough to afford a deduction from her pay check.

She returned to her seat angrily and ignored Emily's questioning look. She didn't have time to sit properly in her chair when;

"Andrea."

A shiver ran down her spine, calming her down to some extent. She quickly walked over to Miranda's desk and looked at the woman who had been the subject of her last conversation.

She suddenly felt very uncomfortable standing so close to her and looking into her eyes when Nigel had just said all these things. She was angry with herself for understanding why he had such an attitude towards the whole situation, but what irritated her more was how little he thought about Miranda. Andy had already got to know her well enough to be able to distinguish the truth from the cruel rumours spread by jealous people. However, she would not have expected anything like this from the man Miranda considered to be her right hand.

She was looking at Andy with slightly furrowed eyebrows, as if she was trying to read from her mind what Nigel actually wanted to talk to her about. She was grateful that the older woman hadn't mastered this skill yet, or she would have burned with embarrassment. After a while, however, Miranda blinked twice, as if waking up from this strange trance and breaking their eye contact. She cleared her throat and looked down at the papers spread out on her desk and shuffled them from one to the other.

"Make me that tea."

Andy felt like she might melt at the sound of Miranda's voice, which sounded like the honey in her favourite tea tasted. She smiled slightly at her and nodded and turned around to fulfil her wish as soon as possible.

Nigel could say whatever he wanted, but the truth was that despite the hard shell Miranda had created for herself, sometimes she let the other side of her personality shine through. For these glimpses alone, Andy would go to the moon and come back with some of it if Miranda asked her to. If she was actually interested in Miranda in this way, she would have fallen in love with her very quickly, but not because of her status, but because of what she had to be like in the comfort of her own home.

But she wasn't. Interested that is

Chapter Text

To say that her relationship with Nate was not getting better at all would be an understatement.

Yes, it was theoretically better, they hardly argued at all, but that was more because Andy came home so late that Nate was already asleep, and she also got up earlier than him. He hadn't commented on it so far, but she knew it was only a matter of days before they were back to square one.

However, when it comes to her crush on Miranda, Andy has finally accepted her fate. The woman was hot, there, she said it. Not that she didn’t know about it since their very first meeting, but she wasn’t really acknowledging it before, like she did now. Doug laughed at her when she told him about it, but she knew he was actually the only one who didn't judge her about it. Nigel, on the other hand... she didn't want to think about him. Andy still had a bitter taste in her mouth thinking about their last conversation and the unpleasant comments he had made. Even though she had come to terms with the fact that Miranda was making her cheeks burn and shivers run through her body, that didn't mean it would go as far as Nigel painted it. It couldn't be. Despite her optimistic approach to life, Andy tried to be a realist. Miranda was someone for her to admire and emulate, not someone she could think of in any romantic terms, so she had no intention of allowing herself to do so. Moreover, she didn't want to.

This is how a nice day at the office turned into a terrible one. She opened the letters that came to Miranda so that she could sort them and deliver only those that the woman would personally need to read. And there it was;

NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT

Andy swallowed hard and with her hands shaking, this time from stress rather than pain, she quickly opened the letter and began to read.

The asshole has googled Miranda and found Andy to press charges.

She swallowed under her breath and was glad that Emily was on her no-lunch break at the moment, because she would certainly have been given a cold stare and a question she had no desire to answer.

What should she do now?

Of course, she would have to go there and testify. The problem is that she'll need a lawyer, and that would mean calling her father, who would recommend someone who wouldn't leave her bank account in the red.

She whined, and covered her face with the hurting hand. After a few days, the swelling had gone down a bit, but she still felt unpleasant pulsations.

She checked the date twice more and put it in her calendar, so she wouldn't forget to show up. At that moment, she was overcome with the prickly cold of realization that she would have to tell Miranda why she would most likely have to be away from the office for half a day, but most of all not working. She didn't even want to imagine this conversation. What will Miranda say? Most likely, she will laugh at her and think that these are the consequences of rash behaviour — she would be right. Andy's reaction was stupid and childish, but at that moment it was... it just happened. She wasn't going to make excuses for herself, she would go there and tell the truth because she was a terrible liar in her everyday life. The idea of ​​lying to the police at the police station was so terrifying that she was sure she would confess to everything before they even invited her to a separate room.

She took a deep breath and put that letter aside, choosing instead to focus on the next ones waiting to be opened and sorted.

"Hi!"

Andy looked up from her notebook at Tom, who was standing at her desk with a sly smile.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked while reaching out for the Book.

He leaned on her desk and muzzled his hair a little.

"I'm good, thanks. Any plans for this week? You still owe me a coffee date."

Andy smiled apologetically and cleared her throat. She remembered perfectly well that the last time she had been invited by Tom for coffee, she had left him without any information. She felt a little guilty about it, but then again, so much time had passed that she didn't give it much thought any more.

"No idea. I'll let you know when I'll be free."

He nodded and smiled fully at her this time. At one point, he frowned and leaned slightly, reaching out to her with his hand and smoothing a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

Andy felt like something froze her in place, and she just blinked a few times, having no idea what to say. She didn't feel too comfortable with it, but she didn't want to upset him. It was bad enough that their last conversation had been awkward because she assumed he wanted to go out with her, even though he assured her he didn't.

Uncertainty settled in the pit of her stomach, and she counted the seconds until he pulled away. When he finally did, she exhaled quietly, hoping Tom hadn't noticed her tenseness, and gave him a crooked smile.

"So what are you guys up to here?"

Why was he asking? He was the one working on the Book amongst other people, he knew what they were working on.

"Well-" She cleared her throat again and sat a little deeper in her chair. "As of now the focus is on the article about detox workout, also thinking about getting Uma for an interview."

She shrugged and moved the Book closer to her, putting it in her purse. She hoped that she had clearly signalled her readiness to leave.

"Seems cool." He nodded and tapped his hand lightly on the desk. "Well, I'm heading home, I can wait for you?"

Andy swallowed and smiled at him, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"Sure."

Why was she so bad at saying 'no'?

They walked towards the elevator together and Tom let her go in first. Andy quickly chose the appropriate floor and stood right next to the wall, leaning lightly on it.

She wasn't afraid of him after all. She had known Tom for a long time, she had talked to him many times. Lately, however, she hadn't felt very comfortable around him, although she wasn't sure if it was because of his behaviour or because she was the one who made things awkward between them. However, looking at how he kept talking to her and recently initiating more physical contact, she began to wonder if she was telling herself all this with no reason whatsoever.

Her last conversation with Miranda about him rang in her head. She did say that if anything Andy should speak on it, but really nothing was actually happening. Just because she was uncomfortable didn't mean that he was doing anything inappropriate... right?

Andy shifted her weight from one leg to the other and glanced at him quickly. Tom watched her carefully with a small smile, completely unaware of the rush of her thoughts. He was about to say something when the elevator doors rang and Andy moved forward, saying goodbye over her shoulder. She left the building without turning back and was relieved to see Roy waiting for her. She didn't remember asking him for a ride so late, but at that moment she wanted to kiss him. She got into the front seat and let out a sigh of relief, then smiled widely at him.

"Everything alright?" He asked and turned on the engine.

"Yeah, I was just running away from Tom." She said and waved her hand dismissively, not wanting to talk about it.

"Did he..."

"No! No, it's just-, I don't even know, to be honest." She admitted and straightened the same strand of hair that Tom had been interested in several times.

"Well, tell me if... you know." He said and Andy crooked a smile to him, grateful.

"What are you even doing here? I told you that you don't have to-"

"Miranda told me to come and get you." He interrupted her and leaned on the door with his left hand, his right gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"I'm sorry, it's so late and you should be home by now."

"Not a problem, Andy."

They exchanged smiles and didn't say anything until the end of the ride. Andy made a mental note to buy him something sweet tomorrow as a thank-you. She knew how big a fan he was of vanilla sponge cakes.

The sky was already dark, but the city was illuminated by flickering neon lights and bright rooms in the buildings. The streets sparkled pleasantly, still wet from the rain that had washed New York a few hours earlier. Andy, despite her guilt, was glad that she didn't have to spend twenty minutes on a dirty subway that evening. It was definitely worse there at that time, than during the day; the walls seemed dirtier, the trains louder, and the people suspicious.

She sat more comfortably in the seat and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. She had no intention of falling asleep, but after what felt like five seconds, she felt a light nudge on her shoulder and when she opened her eyes, she realized that they were already there.

"Oh." She mumbled and sat higher in the seat, looking around in shock. "Well, thank you, I'll go back home on my own, don't wait for me, okay?"

"Sure." Roy said, and she really hoped that he'll listen.

She muttered a quick goodbye and hissed under her breath as she grabbed the door handle with her right hand, causing her to feel pressure on her aching knuckles. There was no time to waste, however, so she quickly closed the door behind her once she got out and ran up the stairs to the entrance. She dug her keys out of the bottom of her purse and went inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

The house was very quiet. It wasn't like there was usually music blaring inside and people's voices filling the space, but this time Andy felt like she could almost hear the floorboards creaking, even though she was standing still.

Without thinking about it too long, she walked quickly, filling the space with the click of her heels, to the dresser where she always left the Book and put it there. She reached for the closet handle and hung up the laundry, and when she came out, she almost bumped into none other than one of the twins. From her friendly look, she guessed it was Cassidy.

"Hi." She whispered and smiled warmly.

"Why are you whispering?" She asked and raised an eyebrow in the same way her mom did.

Andy cringed internally and shrugged.

"I have no idea." She said in a normal voice. "How are you, Cass?"

The girl smirked, most likely because Andy had finally used the correct name and sat down on the stairs, patting the space next to her. She tentatively joined her, hoping Miranda wouldn't skin her if she found them.

"School is fine. Caro is fine."

"And mom?"

"Momma is okay. I mean, we talked about things and everything seems to be normal."

Andy breathed a sigh of relief. She had texted the twin a little after their last conversation in the park, but she didn't want to ask her anything too private over the phone. She was glad that the girl had finally managed to get along with Miranda. She only hoped that her earlier words about being inferior in her mother's eyes were due to their argument and that in reality such thoughts did not torment her.

"I'm really happy to hear that... munchkin." She laughed and then laughed harder when Cassidy rolled her eyes at her.

"Civilized people don't sit on the stairs, Cassidy, especially with guests."

Andy and the girl jerked their heads towards Miranda, who appeared at the end of the hall leading to the kitchen and smaller living room.

Cassidy rolled her eyes and Andy jumped to her feet and nodded at Miranda in greeting.

"Good evening, Miranda, I'm really sorry about-"

"Would you like to drink something?" Miranda said, making Andy look like a fish for a moment in shock at the proposition.

"Umm, I-, yeah. I mean yes." She stammered and bit her lower lip in embarrassment at her inability to speak normally in front of this woman.

Miranda smirked and disappeared behind the wall, most likely heading to her bar. Andy wordlessly followed her when she felt a light tap on her shoulder and turned to Cassidy, who was looking at her with pity.

"Such a suck-up." She whispered, leaving Andy with her mouth open and a smile slowly appearing.

She also slapped her lightly on the shoulder and followed Miranda, hearing that Cassidy started to climb the stairs, most likely to her room.

Andy walked into the house and looked around uncertainly. She had been in this room several times before, but she still didn't feel like she was on solid ground. Especially now that she was starting to like Miranda, which caused her to temporarily lash out and stutter excessively. She'd never had a problem forming complete sentences in her presence, but lately she'd found stress creeping into their conversations. Similar to the one from the very beginning, and yet caused by something completely different.

"Miranda?" She asked uncertainly, because she didn't see the woman anywhere, and she didn't want to go deeper into the house without an invitation.

"Here!"

Andy followed the voice through the kitchen and onto the small patio at the back of the house. She walked slowly outside, guessing that's where Miranda was because the door was swinging slightly, as if it had just been used.

It was late, the surroundings were lit only by a single lamp, spilling orange light onto the surrounding area. There was a large tree in the left corner near the fence, and Patty came out from behind it, waddling happily with her nose to the ground. The sounds of the city around them, and although you could still hear cars passing by in the distance, they were so muted that they were only a pleasant hum.

Andy took two steps forward and looked to the right, where a small table, a sofa and a swing were placed on thick wooden planks that imitated a terrace. Miranda was sitting on it and pushing herself lightly with one leg, she rocked back and forth with a glass of whiskey in one hand.

"For a moment I thought you had lost your way." She said, and Andy smiled slightly in response and moved closer.

She wasn't sure if she could sit next to the woman or if it would be better to take a seat on the couch, but she figured that if Miranda wanted a friendly chat, she wasn't going to create unnecessary distance. Andy joined her on the swing and leaned back slightly, not wanting to disturb the rhythmic swing Miranda had given it earlier. She took a deep breath and tilted her head back, closing her eyes for a moment.

"It's really nice."

"Hmm." Miranda hummed in response and leaned over to the table next to her, reaching for Andy's glass.

She accepted the drink with a silent thank you, and even though she didn't like whiskey, she took a sip. It didn't even occur to her to be picky.

"Greg has built it himself." Miranda said and pointed with her little finger at the terrace below them. "It took him two months, but it still hasn't broken up… somehow."

Andy chuckled to herself and took another sip before lowering the glass to her lap, holding it in both hands. She glanced at Miranda and had to admit that she didn't think she'd ever seen her so relaxed. She sat fully reclined, with one leg over the other. Her left hand placed around her waist and the other bent and raised up with a glass in her hand.

"Good thing he did it, it's nice sitting here." Andy almost whispered, not wanting the conversation to end but at the same time making sure to not say too much.

"The girls loved it when they were little." She said and took a sip. "We often spend the evenings here in the summer."

"And now?" Andy asked, hoping Miranda wouldn't think she was impertinent.

The question crossed her mind how much Miranda must have drank so far. Her cheeks were slightly red, although she spoke very clearly. However, Andy didn't think the older woman would have been so willing to talk if it weren't for the alcohol.

Or maybe she would, she wasn't sure of anything now.

Miranda looked down at her lap, brushing the invisible dirt off her skirt. Only now did Andy notice that she was no longer wearing the nude tights she wore to work. Her legs and feet were bare, only a pencil skirt that now covered her to mid-thigh because it must have move higher when she sat down. Andy swallowed hard and looked away from Miranda's legs, feeling like a pervert for staring at them so intently. She looked up at Miranda, who was watching her intently.

Andy bit her lip nervously and noticed that Miranda's eyes darted away for a moment, focusing on her lips, but as soon as she blinked, the woman was already turned away, focused on the tree or Patty, who was still wandering around in the grass.

"We don't have the time to do it any more." She finally answered and took another sip and then placed the glass on the table beside her. "They don't really want to do it."

Andy had no idea what to say at this point. Miranda seemed to be in the mood for a more private conversation, sort of confiding in things that must have been bothering her. Andy, however, had no experience in this type of conversation with an older woman and was too tense to be able to carry on the conversation smoothly without fear of overstepping.

"How's the cook?" Miranda asked suddenly after what felt like hours, but it probably only been a minute or two.

Andy sighed and took a long swig of whiskey, making Miranda snort quietly under her breath. If she was to talk about her relationship, which was already a huge failure, she needed those extra permille in her body.

"Tolerably." She said finally and shrugged, looking closely at her knees. "We, umm, we talked thing out."

"Efficiently?"

"Not really." She admitted and looked at Miranda, whose eyes shone with understanding. "When I'm back from work he's asleep, and when I get up to work, he's still asleep."

Miranda frowned slightly and pursed her lips.

"I could-, I could get the Book via email from time to time if that would-"

"No! No!" Andy interrupted her quickly. "I don't want to-, it's good the way it is."

While she was really moved by Miranda's proposal, realizing how important this type of understanding from her was, she didn't want anything to change. She liked to bring the Book every evening, because even though she didn't always manage to find Miranda, being in this house, and the smell of it brought a kind of peace. Peace and huge amounts of stress at the same time — Andy had no idea what she actually felt, but she didn't want it to end.

"I see." Miranda said finally and nodded, and Andy had the distinct impression that the woman knew exactly what she meant. "I often stay at the office too, if that makes you feel better." She huffed and stood up, causing the swing to jerk slightly.

"Stephen?" Andy asked before thinking and watching nervously Miranda, seeing her whole body tense up suddenly.

Finally, she took two breaths and reached for the bottle of whiskey, pouring some more and waving her hand for Andy to pass her glass. Obediently, she stood up and stood next to her, setting her glass next to Miranda's.

"Yes."

Andy breathed heavily and nodded her thanks as Miranda handed her the glass and gestured with her chin towards the swing, so they could return to their previous seats.

"I'm sorry for-"

"You have to stop apologizing so much." Miranda interrupted her and sat down, crossing her legs again. "I asked, so did you. Call it even."

Andy pursed her lips and sniffed slightly.

"I just don't want to seem rude, or-"

"You're not."

Miranda really liked to cut her of.

"Okay." She whispered and took another sip, even though she was already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.

Miranda looked at her carefully and, imitating her movement, raised the glass to her mouth. Andy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that reminded her of her earlier situation with Tom, and she must have winced slightly because Miranda spoke suddenly, a note of uncertainty in her voice that she had never heard before.

"Are you really that light-headed?"

Andy looked up at her, smoothing her hair nervously, yet again, and shook her head, allowing herself a calm smile.

"No it's not that." She laughed quietly. "I didn't eat that much today so it's getting to me. I was thinking about-" She stopped, not wanting to bring third parties into their conversation.

She hasn't felt as calm as she did now for a long time. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the fact that she had been talking to Miranda for so long about things unrelated to work. It occurred to her that she wished she could share evenings like this with her much more often. The air was pleasantly warm, a light wind from time to time covered them from one side to the other. The light from the lanterns gave everything a cosy atmosphere. The smell of rain filling her lungs and calming them in a way.

She shifted on the swing, allowing herself to bend her left leg underneath her, doing it slowly, being careful not to swing them too much. Miranda didn't seem to care, but when Andy turned to face her more and looked at her. The woman's gaze was hard and calculating, nothing like the previous one.

"Have you eaten anything at all? I don't recall you going for a lunch break."

Andy blinked twice in confusion and thought for a moment. She didn't actually eat anything today, but it wasn't like she was playing pretend to be Emily either. She simply didn't have time for it, and twenty minutes of this break could make a big difference, especially when she had a lot of things to do during the day.

"I-, I don't think so." She admitted with no intention of lying to Miranda.

She felt like she was a little girl again, having messed up and getting ready to be reprimanded by her parent. Miranda's gaze was stern and somewhat disappointed. The last thing Andy wanted was to disappoint a woman in any way, much less think of her as a parent. Of course, she was one, but with her having a crush on the woman it was really... weird.

She shook her head and squeezed the glass in her right hand, forgetting that she still couldn't move it so freely and had to wince slightly because Miranda, without precedent, reached for her hand and looked closely at her knuckles.

"What did doctor say?"

Andy pursed her lips into a thin line, not wanting to admit out loud that she didn't listen and never actually went to the doctor. Miranda looked up at her after a moment of silence, and it didn't take all of two seconds for her to realise why Andy had decided not to answer.

"Really, Andrea." She said, her voice low, and Andy felt a shiver running down her spine. "It looks awful."

She swallowed hard and wanted to pull her hand towards herself, but she didn't dare to do so. Miranda was most likely unconsciously stroking her knuckles lightly with her thumb, and even though it hurt a little, Andy was enjoying it.

"It doesn't hurt that much."

"Come." Miranda said and released Andy's hand from her grasp, not noticing the disappointment in her eyes. "I should have some ointment."

Andy would never admit that she already had one at home and used it whenever she could. Instead, she got up from the swing and followed Miranda, leaving the door slightly ajar so Patty could hide inside the house later.

Miranda sat her down on one of the high stools at the kitchen island and disappeared behind a door that seemed to lead to one of the smaller bathrooms. She came back a moment later and placed the ointment in front of Andy and wordlessly walked over to the fridge, leaning lightly against the open door with her hand at the level of her face. Andy stared at her as if enchanted, completely unused to Miranda behaving in such a homely manner. She finally woke up and reached for the ointment, unscrewing it and applying it to her sore knuckles.

Meanwhile, Miranda took out two yogurts from the fridge and set them down in front of Andy, opening the drawer and reaching for a spoon.

"There's nothing left from the dinner so it leaves you with that only." She said and sat down opposite her.

Without a word, Andy closed the ointment and went to the sink to wash the residue off her fingers. She returned to her seat and reached for one of the yogurts.

"You were saying something before." Miranda said suddenly and turned her head slightly to the side. "What was it?"

Andy thought back to their earlier conversation, but realized that the only thing Miranda could be referring to was what Andy didn't really want to talk about: Tom. However, seeing the woman's careful look, she put the yogurt on the counter and, straightening her hair again, took a deeper breath.

"It's nothing, really." She murmured. "Tom brought me the Book and made me a little uncomfortable. He didn't do anything wrong though." She added quickly, wanting to make it clear that nothing terrible had happened.

Miranda tensed and pursed her lips while clenching her jaw.

"If it made you uncomfortable then he shouldn't have done that, Andrea." She said matter of fact. "Don't make me explain such basic things."

"Well, I know, but it really wasn't anything… you know." She waved her hand, searching for the right word.

"It seems that you can't be left on your own." Miranda said. "Tell him to stop whatever it is and be done with it."

“Miranda, I swear that he’s not some kind of creep, or anything. I once told him that I wasn’t interested and-”

"And he made you uncomfortable today." She interrupted and looked at Andy like she was stupid. "'No' means no, Andrea. Just make sure not to punch him at work, or you'll end up with an assault lawsuit." She snorted under her breath and ran a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, about that..." Andy mumbled and reached for the yogurt. "I got a letter from NYPD."

Miranda suddenly straightened up and looked at her indignantly, blinking rapidly.

"Pardon?"

"Umm, today, actually. That asshole wants to press charges."

Miranda clenched her jaw so hard that for a moment Andy was afraid it might break.

"When?"

"Next week at Monday, 9am." She admitted. "So I won't be able to be at work for some time."

Miranda waved it off as if it didn't matter to her that she would be left with just one assistant for a while.

"Do you have a lawyer?"

"Not yet, but I will probably have to call my dad to… make it happen somehow. He has some friends here."

Miranda thought for a minute, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the counter.

"Monday, you say." She hummed. "Make the necessary changes in my schedule first thing in the morning. I'll be your witness."

Andy, who was taking a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth, almost choked. She cleared her throat twice and blinked rapidly, staring at Miranda with wide eyes, unable to believe her ears.

"B-but Miranda! What about the press and, and-, you don't have to do that, I'm the one that-"

"I'm aware." She said firmly. "Yet, I feel obligated. After all you were protecting me." She smirked, causing Andy's cheeks to blush furiously, and Miranda's eyes clearly followed the growing blush that started on her face and ended all the way down to her chest.

Andy finished her yogurt within another two minutes and seeing the tiredness on Miranda's face, she announced it was time for her to go. The truth was that she would have liked to stay until the morning if it meant having a casual chat with Miranda, but the Book was still lying on the dresser in the hall, untouched, and it was the middle of the week. There was no way either of them would get enough sleep.

Miranda walked her to the door without a word and grabbed the doorknob. She stood there for a moment, glancing at Andy, who was calling for a taxi for herself at her suggestion. When she received confirmation that someone would pick her up within few minutes, Andy looked at Miranda and smiled softly, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

As if instinctively, the woman reached for Andy's arm, adjusting the sleeve of her blouse, which had gone too low. Her fingers brushed Andy's bare skin, and Andy almost jumped at the unexpected contact. Her breathing quickened, she could almost hear the pounding of her heart and was hoping that Miranda couldn’t. Her collarbone was burning there, but before her face turned beet red again, she said goodbye to Miranda and stepped outside, only exhaling when she heard the door close behind her.

She reached for her phone, which she hadn't checked all this time, and was horrified to see that she had spent almost three hours at Miranda's. She swallowed and opened her text messages as she approached the taxi that had just pulled up in front of her. Her stomach tightened uncomfortably as she saw two messages from Nigel, six from Nate, and one missed call from her mother.

Sitting in the taxi, Andy's heart still hadn't returned to its normal rhythm. Her hands were almost trembling, she reached for her phone, sneaking glances at the driver to make sure she wasn't being watched. She bit the inside of her cheek and searched for Doug's number.

'Andy: I ​​just spent over two hours at her house, and we were just talking.'

'Andy: Not work related.'

'Andy: She grabbed my hand AGAIN and then touched my shoulder.'

'Andy: Does that mean anything?!?!'

'Andy: I ​​think I'm hyperventilating.'

'Andy: She even made some jokes.'

'Douggy: Jesus, woman, it's almost midnight!'

'Douggy: OH SHIT!'

'Douggy: Tell me more!'

'Andy: That's it to be honest, but I'm sure she saw me blushing a couple of times, and then she smiled.'

'Andy: My God, what do I do?'

'Douggy: I'm so jealous right now, you have no idea.'

She bit her lip so hard that for a moment she was afraid she would bite it completely. She turned off her phone, threw it into her purse, and leaned forward, resting her head on her hands in her lap and gripping her hair tightly. She inhaled loudly through her nose and finally laughed helplessly, unable to shake the knot in her stomach.

The alarm went off much faster than she would have liked. She whined loudly and turned it off, hitting it a few times. She turned over and was surprised to see an empty place in bed next to her.

When she returned so late the previous day, Nate was already sound asleep. She was relieved because she had absolutely no energy to explain herself to him. However, it seemed that her boyfriend decided to have this conversation in the morning before work.

Andy steeled, telling herself that she was an adult and wouldn't run away from conversations she'd rather not have. She slowly got out of bed, running her hand through her tangled hair and straightening her wrinkled T-shirt that had ridden up too high while she slept. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door handle and entered the kitchen, finding Nate sitting at the table.

"Where were you last night?"

We're going right into it, she thought.

"I had to wait longer for the Book, and then I was working with Miranda at her place." She settled on half-true.

"Right." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his torso. "You were at her place."

Andy broke eye contact, staring at her bare feet, and walked over to the table, sitting on the other side. Just by his tone she knew where this conversation was heading again, and this time she knew she was going to lie. She didn’t feel good about it, but she genuinely did not see any other option.

"Yup." She popped the 'p'. "Working."

"You were working drunk?" He asked and Andy felt all the colour drain from her face.

Nate looked at her carefully, following her every, even the smallest, movement. Whether her hands were shaking or whether her breathing was quickening. It felt like an interrogation, and she still had a week.

"I-, she gave me a drink. It was late." She admitted — no point in denying if he knew already. "What do you want to know exactly, Nate?"

"Whatever it is, I want your honest opinion, and I promise I won't get mad." He said and clenched his jaw tightly. "Are you two fucking?"

Andy felt her jaw drop in shock and her face begin to burn. Previously colourless, now it must have looked like a ripe tomato. She took a deep breath and blinked a few times.

"Wha-, what?" She said in a high-pitched voice. "Of course not! She's married, and-, and I have you!"

"So that's your only obstacle? You two being in relationships?"

"Oh my God..." She mumbled and buried her face in her hands, fingers curling in her hair. She was even grateful for the gnawing pain in her hand, because it felt like it was the only thing keeping her afloat. "Do we have to-, do you really think I'd ever cheat on you, Nate?"

She couldn't believe that they were talking about that again.

"To this point, I wouldn't have thought of it, but I see that you have changed. I'm not talking about your clothes or the fact that you always have no time, Andy, I can somehow bear it. I'm talking about you having your head in the clouds. You look like me when we first started dating, and I was falling in love with you, except you're talking about this woman or talking to her at these moments."

Andy focused on her heartbeats. It felt like she could hear every pulse, the entire process of pumping the blood that seemed to flow only to her cheeks. Each breath was stinging and very unpleasant, but she couldn't stop it.

How deep into this stupid crush must she actually be if she looked like that? If even Nate noticed this change in her? She felt terrible because she knew there was no way she could tell him what it really was like. He wouldn't understand. She, herself, didn't fully understand it, but it wasn't like she wanted to be with Miranda. She loved Nate, and the Miranda thing was just for a moment, right? It was just a slight fascination with another person but it was so simple to confuse it with romantic feelings…

She took a loud breath in and then a firm pull and rubbed her face twice. Her hands fell to the table with a silent thud. Andy looked at Nate, exhaustion certainly evident on her face.

"There is nothing going on." She said and ignored the sudden change in her heartbeat. "She's my boss, I like her, we're almost on a friendly terms, but I love you."

Oh, she felt disgusting with herself. The word 'love' has lost meaning for her some time ago. She was just so used to him being around that she couldn't imagine her life without Nate. Doug was right, she should let him go and figure out what was actually happening in her mind. Andy was hurting him even if not out of want. She knew and she had no idea how to stop. The worst part about it was that she didn't really want anything to change. She found comfort in their now toxic relationship.

Nate breathed heavily and looked at her until he nodded sharply and turned his face to the side, leaning over the table.

"Okay." He said. "Now answer me this; what about the cat?"

Andy smirked under her nose and looked at the windowsill, where Little Laggy was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the seriousness of the situation.

"I-, umm, when you left I took him in." She admitted, glad to change the subject. "It was an impulse."

"For how long is he going to be here?"

"What?"

"For how lo-"

"No, I heard you, I just mean-, what do you mean? He's my cat, he's almost like a child to me."

Nate looked at her with pity.

"It's a cat, Andy, and do you even have enough money to take good care of it?"

Andy frowned and glanced back at the grey tom. Of course, she could afford it, otherwise she wouldn't have taken it.

"I managed when you were gone." She said and the moment his eyes narrowed she knew that he was getting angry all over again.

"What the fuck, Andy? Are you surprised? You're absent, you're focused on the Dragon Lady all the damn time, you don't give a shit about me and sometimes I feel like you don't want to talk to me at all!"

"It's not like that!"

"No? Cause I feel like shit because of you, and I really don't think that I should." He slammed his open hand on the table and stood up, clearly needing to vent his anger. "You don't appreciate me at all! We don't talk, we don't even hug or kiss any more! I'm not even gonna mention the sex. Do you even like me, Andy?"

"Of course." She whispered, feeling her voice getting wet. "Of course I do."

"Then what is happening? I seriously have some problems with understanding. Maybe I'm just stupid or-, or-, I don't even know!" Nate was now pacing left and right. "I really consider myself an understanding person. You got a fucking cat and I haven't said a word about it!"

"Is it really that weird that I sometimes want some time just for myself?"

"For six fucking months?" He yelled, and she jumped in her chair and blinked rapidly.

He stood still and looked for a moment at Little Laggy, who was now sitting up and watching the whole situation carefully, woken from his sleep by screams.

"Whatever." He waved his hand and after a few seconds he walked up to her quickly, suddenly kneeling next to her and grabbed her hands in his, squeezing them tightly.

Andy swallowed, feeling tears streaming down her cheeks, and bit the inside of her cheeks as hard as she could to avoid focusing on the throbbing pain in her hand. She was so confused right now. Now being able to keep up with the sudden changes in his behaviour.

"I love you." He whispered and looked at her, and his eyes changed from stormy to smooth and warm. "I believe you, I just feel like I'm losing you and I have no idea what's the actual reason. It's making me go mad."

"I'm sorry." Andy replied in an equally quiet voice and looked down at her lap.

She felt indescribable shame before Nate, but most of all before herself. She had never had a problem telling him about her worries, and now she was starting to lie, twist and mislead him to make him feel guilty about the whole situation.

She was so, so awful, and to apologise was the only thing she knew how to do. No other word came to her mind.

"Can we try one more time?" He asked and when she nodded resignedly, he saw a spark of hope in her eyes and pulled himself up to press a kiss on her lips.

It hit her at that moment how over it actually was between them, when the kiss felt bitter and rough. How his lips moved with no hesitation, so dominant, trying to take control over her. It wasn't something she wished for any more.

When Nate moved away and smiled at her, Andy felt like she was looking at a stranger, as if these five years of relationship had been just a dream and not the reality she had lived in for so long.

She ignored the impulse to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and instead forced a crooked smile.

Andy knew something was wrong when, about ten minutes after Miranda left for lunch with Christophe Lemaire — the creative director of Lacoste — she smelled onion bagels in the air. She wrinkled her nose twice, trying to make sure she recognized the scent correctly. As if it wasn't that the last time she ate them just before her first meeting with Miranda. Since then, she has been traumatized enough by the entire interaction that she has not been able to look at that particular food.

She looked at Emily, who must have smelled it too at that moment, because she grimaced terribly, as if the slightest evidence that food even existed made her sick.

Andy gave her a pitying smile, to which the redhead responded with an even bigger grimace and immediately went back to work. At that moment, Nigel came out from behind the door with a small paper bag in his hand, and the smell of baked onions filled the entire room.

"You didn't." Andy said and stood up from her seat, starting to smile more and more.

"I very much did." He said and placed the package on her desk as far away from him as possible. "Those are my apology bagels."

Andy bit her lower lip and looked into the bag, and had to admit that after so long of not eating them, even she winced at the intense smell, unable to believe how often she used to indulge. She wrapped the bag much tighter to limit the spread of the scent and looked at Nigel.

"Thank you." She said and extended her left hand to him, which he quickly grabbed and shook. "I'm sorry too... for the way I stood you up back then. Something happened and I didn't even text you, and..."

Nigel waved it off, and Andy sincerely hoped that he actually didn't care at all.

"It's nothing. I only spent here two additional hours, before I got bored and came here to find Miranda all by herself." He stated sarcastically and looked at her over his glasses with a sly smile.

"I'm sorry!" Andy whined because she felt terrible about the way she acted.

Nigel shook his head, letting her know he really wasn't angry, and squeezed her hand once more before pulling away, leaning more comfortably against Andy's desk. Emily seemed completely uninterested in their conversation, tapping rapidly on her keyboard, most likely typing another angry email.

"We really need to talk, Andy. I know that you have a lot on your mind, but what I've found out is rather big and I want you in on it, okay?" Nigel suddenly became serious and lowered his voice slightly.

Andy swallowed and nodded quickly, letting him know that she was taking the whole situation seriously. Due to recent events, she had to admit that she had neglected their little investigation, but now she was ready to get back to it. Yes, she was still distracted, but some things couldn't wait. And she couldn't wait to share the news with Miranda. Even though the woman wasn't officially working with them on it, she was certainly curious about their progress. It immediately occurred to Andy that she would have to find the documents in her apartment that she had previously been working on at Miranda's desk. She was praised for it, and although she had found a few hooks in it, she hoped that she would be able to talk to her father about it. He had a lot more knowledge on the subject than she did.

"Absolutely. When?"

"Today. I'll send you the details. If anything, text me." He said significantly and raised his eyebrows, to which she smiled innocently and nodded once again.

"Ay, ay!" She put two fingers to her forehead and saluted him.

Before he left, he turned around, said; "Don't bring those bagels with you!" and then left.

Andy chuckled to herself and sat back in her chair and reached for the food Nigel had left. She wondered for a moment if she wanted to actually risk opening them again, releasing another cloud of the smell of baked onions into their office, but she figured that by the time Miranda returned, the smell would be long gone. Moreover, she hadn't eaten anything that day, and the older woman's last words rang in her head.

She reached for the paper bag and unfolded it, feeling Emily's disgusted gaze on her. She glanced at it and wryly held out the bagel to her;

"You want some?"

"I'd rather die."

Andy snorted and took a big bite. It was good, but not as good as she remembered. While chewing, she opened several drawers, looking for the toothbrush she had packed there after her first onion day, just in case. She pulled out a bottle of her favourite citrus perfume from her purse.

She ate it all, and after a few minutes, she realized what a serious problem the lack of regular eating had become in her life. She was no Emily, but with no time to eat even a sandwich in the morning, her stomach had thickened, and now, that she ate so much at once, she felt like her body had no intention of digesting it. Her eyes widened in shock at her reaction, and she looked at Emily who was there interested only in what was happening on her computer screen. Andy wordlessly stood up and ran to the bathroom next to them and yanked open the stall door, fell to her knees and started vomiting.

She was startled when she felt someone's presence behind her, but she never expected how calming the caustic croak of the British woman would be as she lightly stroked her back and held her hair. The phones apparently forgotten.

"You can't even starve yourself properly. Of all the eating disorders in our world, you chose to vomit." She snorted and Andy almost laughed.

She probably would have if it weren't for the fact that it kept bending her body like of a sick cat.

"I'm not doing it on purpose." She finally said and swallowed the saliva that had gathered in her mouth, which made her want to puke again — she suppressed that reflex this time. "Thanks."

Emily snorted and grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped Andy's face without asking if she could do it herself. She threw it into the toilet and flushed the water, closing the lid.

"Sit." She said, and Andy was in too much of a shock not to obey. "If you don't eat, you can't start with something this heavy again." She started something that was dangerously similar to a lecture. "You need to focus on easily digestible things, or cereals. A small bowl to start with and believe me, you'll be full for the whole day. Your stomach is tight now, so you don't need much to feel full."

Andy blinked a few times and finally nodded. Help from Emily is something that could be considered one of the main wonders of the world. She would easily put it on par with Machu Picchu.

"Why are you-" She started, but cut herself off because it wasn't until she started talking that she realized she had no idea what she actually wanted to ask.

Emily decided for her;

"I'm not a monster, you know." She spat and left the cabin, waving for Andy to follow her, which she did obediently. "Believe me, I'm rather experienced in the area, so you better listen to me for a change."

They left the bathroom and Andy glanced at her phone out of habit and was relieved when the red light for voice mails wasn't blinking. Emily sat her in her chair and disappeared for a moment into their side kitchen and returned with a glass of water. She put everything in front of Andy and looked at her expectantly. Only after drinking everything, the redhead also placed a small yogurt and a tablet with most likely vitamin C on the desk.

"Thank you." Andy said yet again.

"Now." Emily sighed and stood straight on the other side of the desk, looking down at Andy with both hands on her hips. "You are going to tell me what is it that the two of you are plotting about."

"We don't-"

"Oh, drop the act, Andy. You two have some secrets that will get you in dirty trouble sooner than later, and I'll be also to blame, for sure. I. Want. To know."

Emily's breathing was even and it looked like she had been observing what was happening around her for a long time. Andy wasn't surprised at all and was even shocked that the redhead had refrained from commenting for so long. If it were her, she would probably pry into her business much earlier, being a curious person by nature. Looking at her, Andy detected, despite her admirable composure, a hint of uncertainty. No surprise, especially after Nigel's statement today, who also didn't seem bothered by Emily's presence while talking about something 'rather big' regarding their investigation.

The British woman stood with her nose upturned, as always, but this time, apart from the obvious mask she always put on when she was at work, Andy began to notice a little more. She was never interested in Emily enough to actually focus on her — her entire attention was devoted to Miranda. Now, however, especially after receiving such help from her without prior request, a door opened in Andy's mind, allowing her to look at her colleague in a completely new way.

She blinked at her a few times and finally looked around. There was no one in earshot or sight. They would have at least an hour before Miranda returned, and the phones were unusually quiet that day. Andy leaned forward slightly, careful not to knock the already opened yogurt, and looked at Emily carefully.

"Do you remember when Miranda decided to change the last issue so suddenly?"

Emily nodded curtly, curiosity much clearer on her face now.

"Well..." Andy cleared her throat. "Somebody has stolen almost all the material of the previous version. We had to change it, and now me and Nigel are trying to figure out whom it could have been."

If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, Andy would have laughed out loud when she saw Emily's face turn from serious and bored into a pufferfish look alike. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth as well, to the point that Andy could've almost count all of her teeth. Finally, she couldn't stand it any more and smirked and Emily, catching on immediately, closed her mouth with a loud bang and inhaled loudly through her nose. She began smoothing her shirt with her hands in a nervous gesture.

"Bloody hell."

"Yeah."

"So what now? Does Miranda know that you two are-"

"Yes, she does." Andy assured and nodded to confirm her words. "Let's not talk about it here, okay? Meet us tonight; me and Nigel, and we'll share with you what we know. That way you'll be able to help... if you want."

Emily didn't answer for a moment, which made Andy feel uneasy in the pit of her stomach whether she was doing the right thing in sharing such information with her. Eventually, however, the redhead nodded and returned to her desk, clearing her throat quietly.

"Eat your yogurt." She said, and Andy smiled at her slyly.

"Only if you'll eat yours."

Emily snorted and didn't say another word, focusing on her work. It was worth a shot.

When Miranda returned, Andy smiled brightly at her, but then bit her lip when the woman stopped for a moment and twitched her nose slightly. Her heart pounded in her chest with fear that despite the passage of time, the smell of baked onions and wheat still lingered in the air, but she calmed down after a moment when Miranda must have realised that it was impossible for one of her assistants to bring something like that to the workplace.

Good God.

She walked past them and set her purse on Emily's desk, who, as always, gave Andy a nasty look. Some things will never change apparently, she thought. She went into her office, and sat at her desk, taking the coffee Andy has placed on her desk just a minute ago.

"Andrea, Emily." She said, and both assistants looked at each other in surprise, but didn't waste any time and quickly stood in front of Miranda. "As you know, my three-day trip to the Hampton's with the girls is coming up, and right before, Runway is hosting a charity gala, at which your presence is mandatory. You already have the guest list in the mail, you have to learn all the names perfectly."

Emily nodded, as did Andy, who almost breathed a sigh of relief when Miranda finally mentioned the trip Andy had learned about from Nigel some time ago. Until now, she had been terrified that perhaps she should have planned everything without consulting the woman first, but it turned out otherwise. She hoped to find out more details.

"Emily, go to Calvin Klein and talk with Francisco's assistant. He's not fond of talking on the phone. We need him to be interviewed for the next issue. Contact Testino and Tonne Goodman, I want them for the cover with Uma. Did she confirm?"

"Yes, she'll be available on Thursday at noon." Emily replied quickly, leafing through her own notes even though she didn't have to, remembering all the details well.

"No." Miranda said, and flipped a page of the magazine on her desk, playing with her earring with one hand — Andy couldn't take her eyes off the movement of her fingers. "I want her here tomorrow at 9am, no later than that. Make it happen."

Emily nodded.

"What about Kate Hudson? She's considered for the July, have you called her?"

"Yes, she seemed very exited." Andy said, seeing that Emily didn't have an answer prepared. "But her agent wants her to appear in a certain way, he called today to ask about meeting you and discussing..."

"No. Tell him 'no' for the hundreth time." Miranda paused and Andy nodded, fully understanding her approach. Bold of him to assume that he can dictate what the cover will look like. "I need Nigel to come here in ten minutes, we need to go through the colour pattern for the cover."

"Of course."

"That's all, Emily."

The redhead nodded and wordlessly returned to her desk, waiting until Andy was able to return to her desk to answer calls, so she could go to the meeting at Calvin Klein.

"Clear the next weekend for me, Friday included, and make sure that the twins don't have anything planned with their friends. Buy one ticket for a train to the Hampton's, the earliest one there is for Saturday. Call Marie and instruct her to prepare the house."

Andy wrote everything down quickly, frowning slightly at the instruction to buy one ticket. Certainly Miranda would have preferred to go with Roy, and even if it was by train, Andy was pretty sure that a group ticket required at least five people, and not...

She just decided to ask.

"Only one ticket?"

Miranda looked up at her over the reading glasses that were hanging on the tip of her nose. One hand was still playing with the earring, but at Andy's question, Miranda stopped the movement and looked at her up and down, examining her outfit for a close second time.

That day, Andy decided to wear a white T-shirt with a collar and three-quarter sleeves from Balenciaga from their spring collection from three years ago, and brown leather trousers with flared legs reaching to mid-calf from Dolce & Gabbana. On her feet she put on nite-out leopard-print pumps from Valentino. Her hair was straightened, as were her bangs, which fell slightly into her eyes.

She swallowed hard as she noticed how much time Miranda was spending carefully examining her outfit. The woman finally inhaled loudly through her nose and pursed her lips in thought. She opened the drawer on her right, but Andy couldn't tell what she took out. However, she immediately recognized the material when Miranda got up from behind her desk and slowly walked towards her, playing with the black Hermès scarf that Andy had personally brought to her not so long ago. Only if you looked closely, you could see thin patterns embroidered with such a dark grey thread that it was difficult to see on the first look. Still, it added texture.

Miranda turned her head to the side and narrowed her eyes slightly, thinking hard about something, until she finally raised one hand to Andy's neck, clutching the scarf, and pressed it there. Certainly she could feel how fast Andy's heart was beating at that moment, luckily she didn't comment. For a moment Miranda looked like she was going to tie it herself, and Andy realised how much she was hoping that she would. Eventually she lowered her hand and stroked the material with her other, looking up from Andy's collar to her eyes. They stared at each other for a few seconds until Miranda threw the scarf towards her and Andy caught it quickly, keeping it from touching the floor, and the woman turned around and sat back at her desk.

What was that?, Andy thought.

Her heart was beating like crazy, and she couldn't control her breathing to make it even. After this surprising interaction, Miranda looked like she was doing a standard run-through. Focused and scanning every single detail of Andy's outfit to make sure her vision for completing it was correct. It was, of course, Andy was sure of it. Even if she wouldn't like it personally, she was sure, that she'd wear it proudly, purely by the fact, that Miranda has chosen it herself for her.

Was she the only one feeling it? She hoped not, but at the same time, even the slightest thought of 'what if'... if Miranda recognized her behaviour and knew exactly what was going through Andy's head, was terrifying. Because that would mean that Miranda shared her fascination, at least to a small extent. If not, it would simply be playing with Andy's feelings.

Whatever it was, Andy was terrified of both of them. However, it didn't change the fact that her heart was beating against her skin from the inside so hard that her entire body became red-hot and her hands began to tremble.

"That ticket is for you."

That evening she made sure Roy wouldn't wait for her, no matter what Miranda ordered. She was on her way down to the subway when she received a text from Nigel with the address of the bar they were meeting at, which she quickly forwarded to Emily. She hoped Nigel wouldn't be mad at her for recruiting another person for their private investigation. As she ran down the last steps, she replied that as soon as she took the Book to Miranda's house, she would go to the designated place.

She sat on a bench on her platform and quickly found Doug's number and sent the first text.

'Andy: I ​​think I'm loosing my mind.'

'Andy: She's either playing with me or I'm delusional.'

'Douggy: Omg, spare no details.'

'Andy: She held a scarf against my neck.'

'Douggy: I said that I need details.'

'Andy: She got up from behind the desk, came much closer than normal and basically touched my neck with her hand.'

'Douggy: Hot.'

'Douggy: I had no idea that you were into this kind of stuff.'

'Andy: I'm not!'

'Andy: Maybe I am.'

'Douggy: Ha! Damn, girl, you're so into her. What else?'

She took a deep breath and pursed her lips into a thin line, holding back the smile that was spreading across her face. She didn't recognize herself. She had never experienced anything like this, even when she and Nate were just getting to know each other, she didn't think she was going this crazy. Was it really like that? Having a crush has recently become a driving force in her everyday life. The fact that Miranda was her much older, demanding boss, with whom she spent most of her time, didn't matter. I mean, it did, but...

Her phone vibrated and she quickly answered the call.

"Girl!" Doug screeched so loudly that she had to pull the phone away from her ear. "If she's not at least a little gay, then I'll lose faith in humanity."

Andy snorted and stood up as the sound of an approaching train began to echo across the platform.

"Don't feed my fantasies or I'll go completely crazy." She said and moved closer to the edge. "Does she actually act weird, or am I just adding too much to it all. I mean it was only a scarf, and-"

"Andy, shut up, please." Doug interrupted her, and she didn't have time to get outraged because he quickly continued; "I'm telling you that she likes you."

"Ha!" She laughed sarcastically. "Not a chance. She's just messing with me. Apparently my obsession is loud and clear. She probably knows and is making fun of me."

"What do you mean?"

"I talked with Nate." She admitted and entered one of the carriages and took the nearest available seat. "He said, that 'when I talk to her, I look like he did when he was just falling in love with me.'"

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"No, I mean..." He sighed heavily, and Andy focused on pulling the invisible hair out of her pants. "We're talking Miranda Priestly here. The Miranda Priestly. It's no surprise that she got under your skin. Nate's straight he doesn't get it."

"I'm straight too." She said and winced when she heard loud mocking laughter on the other side.

"You don't need my help with getting delusional, sweetie."

"Thanks." Andy mumbled. "It's all so confusing, Douggy."

She sighed heavily and tilted her head back, staring at the dirty ceiling. Andy had no idea what to think about all this. There were so many possibilities and solutions to her situation, and she was spinning around in circles, completely lost. Common sense told her that she should just get over it, forget about this stupid crush on a woman twenty years her senior, and focus on saving whatever was left of her relationship with Nate. On the other hand, she felt such comfort in these new sensations and experiences. As if she was learning something completely new about herself and didn't want to stop.

Miranda and the simple discovery that this damn woman was affecting Andy on completely different levels than she had initially thought gave her such an adrenaline rush that she couldn't let it go. She had never felt this way with anyone else in her life.

Did it really mean that she might be... at least bi?

Andy shook her head and straightened up, looking around her, luckily she was almost alone in the carriage. The next station behind her.

She had no intention of letting her thoughts go in that direction, because admitting to herself that she could be attracted to women in general just as much as she was to men would mean that her crush on Miranda was much more serious than she thought. And that would mean that she was a much worse person towards Nate than she already thought, and even then she didn't have the best opinion about herself.

"You'll get there, Andy. Give it some time." He said and his voice calmed her a little. "What are you up to, besides eventually bedding the Ice Queen?"

"Doug!" She almost squealed in outrage and, like clockwork, her cheeks began to colour. "Not much. I'm on my way to her house now with the Book, and then I'm meeting with Nige and Em."

"Emily? The mean one?"

"Yup, I think we might start liking each other, can you imagine?" She laughed under her breath and adjusted her purse on her knees.

As soon as she stepped inside, the smell of alcohol, french fries and general stuffiness hit her nostrils and face. She immediately unbuttoned two buttons of her shirt, although more out of habit. She didn't think it would help her much, especially since the scarf Miranda had chosen was tied around her neck and hung loosely along the buttons.

She would rather take off her shirt completely than take off that damn scarf.

The room was very pleasant. It wasn't as dark as the other bar Andy had been to a few times with Nigel, but the vibe was similar. Colourful walls that looked hand-painted gave the entire bar character. There were an alarming amount of lights hanging from the ceiling, and although Andy wasn't a fan of maximalism, she had to admit that it worked great here.

She went deeper, looking around carefully. There weren't many people, but the bar was small enough that it got crowded very quickly. Jazz music was playing in the background, not too loud, pleasantly accompanying the sounds of conversations instead of drowning them out. Andy finally made it to the bar to order a drink for herself, feeling like she couldn't do it without it, especially after her experiences that day. She had a feeling that additional information from Nigel would only kill her soberly.

She ordered a Cosmopolitan for herself and when she managed to pay, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She turned around abruptly and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Nigel standing behind her.

"Hi!" She smiled broadly and hugged him.

"Have you ordered yet?" He asked and Andy nodded in response. "So get me one and come to the back of the bar. I've booked us a table."

With these words he left without waiting for her response. At first, she wanted to ask how on earth he could book anything here, since this particular bar didn't offer such an option, but she decided that after such a long tenure at Runway, it shouldn't surprise her any more.

She ordered double whiskey for Nigel and when she turned around with two drinks in her hands, following a hunch, she looked towards the entrance and saw Emily looking around uncertainly. To say she looked completely out of her comfort zone was an understatement. Andy walked over to her quickly, sure that seeing a familiar face would give the redhead some confidence. She was right, because as soon as Emily noticed her, she turned up her nose.

"Here you are." Her tone was bored. "What kind of place is that?"

Andy rolled her eyes and nodded for her to follow. She didn't have to turn around to know that the British woman was right behind her, most likely not wanting to be left alone in the crowd.

"What are you drinking?"

Emily grimaced slightly and looked over the bar to read the entire board of drinks that were served at the bar. Andy was ready to spend a few minutes there, waiting for her friend to finally choose a fancy drink, but she almost spit on herself when, after only three seconds, Emily sighed, leaned over the bar, and;

"Beer for me!"

Andy blinked at her a few times in complete shock, earning herself a sharp glare.

"What?" She spat.

"Nothing." She replied in a light tone and laughed with a shrug. "I think this evening is the beginning of our great friendship." She added sarcastically, and Emily snorted, but couldn't hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

With all their orders in hand, they both headed towards the table mentioned earlier. Andy sat down first, placing the whiskey in front of him. Nigel was about to say something when he looked up and noticed Emily, who, to Andy's notorious surprise, sat uncomfortably next to her, placing a beer on the table.

He blinked a few times in shock, then looked at Andy pointedly. She cringed, not wanting Emily to feel out of place and waved her hand at him to lighten the mood.

"Come on, it's only Em!" She said. "Besides, she knew what was happening for some time now."

Little lie, but who cares. Nigel looked at Emily questioningly and Andy had great hopes that the inner British actress in her would be up to this acting task and confirm her story.

"Well obviously, I'm not stupid, you know." She started nonchalantly. "Plus you weren't very discreet talking about the whole thing in front of me today."

Nigel nodded, accepting this version of events, and Andy breathed a sigh of relief. They all clinked their drinks and after two sips, Nigel sighed and sat back, resting his arms on the wooden table.

"So far, me and Andy found our unused articles from the previous issue in three different magazines." He started looking straight at Emily, filling her in on all the details. "Vanity Fair, Elle, and..." He pointed at the drink Andy was drinking; "Cosmopolitan."

"All the big ones." Emily mumbled and looked down at the table with a frown.

"Exactly. Now; I don't think anyone from them has been sneaking into our archives or looking for any access to the electronic version of the Book. It wouldn't make any sense. There's too much risk that someone would find out and call them out."

"They are rather big publications, Nige." Andy noticed and Emily nodded. "It's hard to speak up against them."

"True, but they're not indestructible. A good rumour here and there and people would start picking up on it."

"So what you're saying is that it's someone from our own family, that has decided to sell his soul." Emily stated in an obvious tone and took another sip of her beer.

Andy smirked under her breath at the term. No matter how harsh and cold Emily was. Runway was her second home, and she treated it with the utmost respect. She liked this feature in the British woman. At first, she made fun of her involvement, because it seemed downright unhealthy, but now she saw the whole world much more clearly and, to a certain extent, even shared the love for it. The world of fashion, in Andy's eyes, was a bit like an ocean; she approached it with the intention of just soaking her feet, and over time the desire to immerse herself in it entirely grew. The difference between her and Emily was that the redhead was almost settled on one of the coral reefs, and Andy still preferred land.

Still, judging and ridiculing things she simply didn't once understand were a thing of the past. Now she understood Emily's words exactly and resonated with them, because no matter how against it, she had been from the very beginning — Andy had become attached to this place and people, and knew that Runway would be a part of her forever.

"Yes." Nigel admitted reluctantly and swirled his glass, making the whiskey move.

"But there's plenty of people that could do it." Andy said and looked at them alternately. "I-, I mean there's hundreds of people working at Runway, who could have some friends, or-, or someone in any of those magazines."

"And here comes the first part of the big news!" He said and pointed at her with a sly smile.

Andy noticed that she and Emily were leaning forward at the same time, curious about what Nigel had discovered.

"The articles that we went through, were the ones that are available only in two places." He started and looked at them carefully. He held up one finger; "One, the people who are writing them, meaning their offices..." He raised a second finger; "Two, the Book."

Andy leaned back and lightly hit the hard back of the couch they were sitting on, taking a sip of her drink. She glanced at Emily and noticed that the redhead was thinking hard about something until she finally raised one hand in a questioning gesture.

"They have signed confidentiality clauses. All they would have to do was check who wrote which article and everything would be clear. They would be fucked." Andy's eyes widened at Emily's choice of words, and she smiled in shock as she looked at Nigel, who had the same reaction. Seeing this, Emily rolled her eyes and took a sip of her beer; "Oh will you stop? Bloody hell, you're worse than kids."

Andy snorted, Nigel followed, and soon, to their even bigger surprise, Emily joined them.

"So what, does that leave us with people who have the direct access to the Book?" Andy asked when everyone got serious. "That doesn't really help us. I mean-, almost everyone contributes to the final result, we'd have to interrogate so many people, and I don't think that they'd be happy to help."

"Agreed." Emily said and pointed at her with her thumb. "We won't know for sure even if they would talk."

"Ladies." Nigel raised his two hands and looked at them with a proud smile. "Let me calm your nerves."

Emily glanced at Andy with a raised eyebrow, and she returned the look. They turned back to Nigel, who reached into the bag that was next to him and placed an old shoe box on the table in front of them.

Andy, with her innate curiosity, immediately reached for it and gasped loudly, feeling her jaw drop as she saw the discs from the camera recordings.

"See? Now you can start saying how amazing I am."

"Oh my God, Nige!" Andy laughed hysterically and started looking at each disc one by one, being careful not to scratch them. "When-, How-,"

"Bloody hell." Emily whispered and picked up one of the records and looked at it from both sides. "Where are the dates?"

Nigel's face darkened and he grimaced slightly.

"That's the problem. These idiots don't write down every single day, because these recordings are almost never needed. When they gave it to me, I heard that it was probably from that month. We'll have to watch it all, and these are hours worth of material."

Emily sighed heavily and put the CD down without a word. However, Andy had no intention of giving up so quickly. Yes, it will take a lot of time, but if they shared the work, it would go three times faster. It was a miracle that Nigel got his hands on the recordings at all, considering that Elias-Clarke had denied Miranda access to them.

Andy frowned at the thought and thought for a moment. A thousand scenarios were now playing out in her head, but she had no intention of sharing them with her friends, at least not yet. She had no evidence for any of her theories, and she had no intention of throwing accusations left and right.

She put the records back in the box and closed it carefully and looked up at Nigel.

"How did you get them?" She asked, genuinely curious, because she didn't think Nigel could just gain access to the surveillance recordings. The damn Miranda Priestly couldn't, so how come...

"Don't ask." He said and finished the whiskey, not leaving a single drop in the glass, grimacing. "It's far too derogatory a story, and I'm too sober for it."

Andy burst out laughing, deciding to drop the topic for now, knowing that sooner or later she would get this information out of him. Emily, on the other hand, didn't mince her words;

"I'm assuming you fucked one of the security guards."

Andy gasps, feeling like her drink even came out of her nose. She looked at Nigel, who was so shocked by Emily's words that he just blinked with an extremely stupid look on his face. The British woman glanced at Andy and did something that until now seemed to be an unattainable skill for her; she started giggling and finally laughed out loud.

"Did she say why?"

"Nope. I have no idea why she wants me to come."

She placed the Book on the flower dresser and turned fully to Cassidy, who was standing on the second step from the bottom, leaning against the railing with her arms crossed over her chest.

Miranda was at one of the late dinners, so she wasn't home. Andy wasn't sure if she was happy about it or not. Cara, the girls' nanny, was somewhere in the house, most likely with Caroline, but she didn't come downstairs to say hello. Maybe that was a good thing, because it gave Andy a chance to talk to Cassidy a little longer than last time. Even though they had exchanged phone numbers a long time ago, they didn't text each other that often, instead taking advantage of every opportunity when Andy came with the Book.

"It's gonna be so weird." Cass whined and rolled her eyes as she sat down on the stairs. Andy joined her without asking. "Stephen will also be there, but he's only on the last day."

Andy grimaced, making Cassidy laugh. She couldn't contain her impulse. She wasn't sure if it was due to the stupid jealousy that had been brewing inside her for some time, or the bitter memories of the first banquet she attended, where Stephen decided to drink too much.

"I'd say 'no' if I could." She assured and covered her mouth with her hand as a huge yawn escaped her.

After meeting at the bar three days ago, Andy had spent most of her nights watching the videos. She, Nigel and Emily divided it into equal thirds, but it was still far too much material to cover at the fast pace they had set for themselves.

"No, it's not that." Cassidy sighed and started playing with her hair, biting it lightly. "I'm fine with you being there. It's gonna get awkward when Stephen gets there."

She completely agreed, but had to ask;

"Why?"

"Cause he's totally jealous of you." She said and rolled her eyes, as if she was completely unaware of what she had just said and how much of an impact it had on Andy.

She felt as if she had just been hit in the middle of the forehead with a hammer. Everything was ringing inside her and her breathing was dangerously fast. However, she was sitting next to Miranda's daughter, so she decided to act like a normal person and control herself.

"Wh-, How?"

Cassidy bit her hair for a few more seconds until she turned fully to face Andy, leaning back against the staircase railing and bending her knees. Andy mirrored her position by leaning against the wall. She looked at Cassidy expectantly and didn't miss the fact that the girl was suddenly confused, not quite sure where she should focus her eyes.

"Well, I heard it on accident." She mumbled. "Momma would never let him talk like that in front of us."

Oh dear lord, Andy thought and was afraid that if she didn't find out soon, she would start sweating from nerves.

"So don't say mom that I told you!"

Andy placed her right hand over her heart and straightened her back, looking at Cassidy seriously.

"I swear."

"Okay." She sighed and her entire face turned red with embarrassment. She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. "Well-, I-, I'm not even sure what that word means, but, umm, he basically called her a dyke."

Andy gasped, unable to believe it. Cassidy looked like she wanted to puke but at the same time rather curious of the meaning of the word.

"Oh, well, umm..." She had no idea what to say to that.

"He was yelling, that she was cheating on him, and he was sure of that, oh!, and also..."

Andy's head was spinning. Suddenly she felt as she opened Pandora's box, because Cassidy seemed to not know how to stop talking about very, very private matters. Andy didn't feel good hearing all this, but she was too shocked by the first blow the girl had given her that she couldn't say a word.

"... and I honestly have no idea what he means by that. My mom is not a cheater! He's just angry that she doesn't want to hug him."

Taking a deep breath, Andy nodded a few times, letting Cassidy know she was listening carefully, even though her thoughts were actually racing.

She couldn't believe how similar Stephen seemed to Nate. The difference, however, was that Andy's boyfriend, despite throwing accusations, would never call her names or treat her in such a way. It was unimaginable that anyone could treat Miranda like that. Andy no longer even focused on the aspect of her thoughts that told her that if she were in the place of this woman's husband, she would go out of her way just to make her happy. So much stress and uncertainty every day at work, the press that was tearing her to pieces at every turn... The time at home should have been when Miranda would have had a chance to regenerate and receive support from the people she loved. She deserved to be carried in their arms through every threshold of this house!

The vision of Miranda being treated this way was completely inconsistent with Andy's idea of ​​this woman. Not even just an idea, but also an experience gained during the time spent with her. The woman was a force of nature, for God's sake! Why would she let anyone treat her like that?

Andy suddenly thought that maybe Miranda was a completely different person in the privacy of her own home. Yes, until now, even with the twins, she had seen her with a mask placed carefully on her face, but wasn't it because there was a stranger in the house at that time? Probably. Plus with the whole Cassidy situation, it's no wonder Miranda seemed to be on the edge. What mother didn't lose patience sometimes? She was only human after all.

At that moment, she remembered the first quarrel she had witnessed thanks to the twins. Miranda seemed so... small back then. Even begging for forgiveness — the complete opposite of the woman Andy saw every day at work. The thought that someone like Stephen had been able to reduce her to this state was repulsive, to say the least.

"What does that mean?" Cassidy asked and Andy shook her head, snapping herself out of her own thoughts. The girl looked at her carefully with a desire to learn in her eyes.

"What?"

"That word that Stephen used. He was yelling so it's probably not good, but I don't get it."

There was no way, that Andy would be the one to explain that. Nope.

"You'll have to ask your mom." She said and Cassidy wanted to start a rebellion, so Andy quickly added; "I don't know what that means. Your mom is way smarter, so she'll know for sure."

"But then she'll know that I was eavesdropping." Cassidy frowned.

Andy shrugged and smiled slightly at her, earning her a light tap on the shoulder.

"How's school?" She asked, desperate to change the topic to something more pleasant.

Cassidy rolled her eyes, which reminded Andy of all the times her family members had asked that question and how much she disliked it.

"Fine. I'm the best in class at maths."

Andy raised her eyebrows in surprise and quickly congratulated the girl. She was never good at maths herself. Until now, she would check the simplest equations on a calculator because she had absolutely no confidence in her calculation skills.

"What are you talking about?" Andy looked up at Caroline, who was standing a few steps above them, eyeing them suspiciously. "Does mom know that you're here?"

"Duh, mom's fine with Andy." Cassidy came to her defence and Andy gave her a small smile.

She stuck her hand up and waved to the other twin, whom she hadn't had a chance to talk to much yet.

She had heard a lot of stories about them from Emily, who called them little demons, but she had to admit that once she got to know Cassidy, she really was a great kid. Sure, she was naive and didn't understand many things. She thought she was smarter than everyone else, but what child didn't? Andy was curious what Caroline was like. She guessed that despite sharing appearances, the twins probably had completely different personalities.

Caroline glared at her, but then she sat down two steps above them, crossing her legs in front of her.

"We were talking about Stephen." Cassidy said and Andy groaned internally, unable to believe they were back on this topic.

"Not much to say about him, he's an ass." Caroline stated and Andy couldn't hold back her ragged laughter.

The other twin looked at her suspiciously at first, but eventually she allowed herself to smile.

"Don't say that." Andy corrected her after a moment, although she was sure that her little reprimand would be of no use when said with a smile on her lips and a trace of amusement in her eyes.

"Sure." Caroline snorted and shrugged.

Andy had to admit that she was enjoying spending time with the twins. She didn't want to get too attached, but what happened, happened. She had grown to like Cassidy a lot, and Caroline seemed like an equally cool kid.

Cara could be heard upstairs, but all three of them ignored her. For a moment, Andy wanted to ask what Caroline had told their nanny that made her not look for them to make sure they hadn't burned down the kitchen yet, but then she realized she wasn't that interested. They were in the middle of playing catch when the sound of keys turning sounded and Andy felt as if she had been hit by a wind of cold water. She glanced at her watch and swallowed softly under her breath, causing both girls to laugh. She had been sitting there for over an hour.

Before Andy could get over her shock and regain her composure enough to stand up, the clatter of high heels echoed through the house, and within a moment Miranda herself was standing in front of her, opening the door to the closet, where Andy was always hanging up laundry, and taking off her summer coat.

Cassidy was the first to speak and ran to her mother, hugging her between the hangers. Miranda made a surprised noise as she felt small arms wrap around her from behind. As soon as she managed to unravel from her daughter's arms, she turned to face her and hugged her tightly, resting her chin on the top of her head and kissing her three times. After a while, Caroline took Cassidy's place and Miranda did exactly the same to her.

She still must have not noticed Andy's presence, because she smiled broadly at them and patted their heads as she crouched down in front of them.

"What's that?" She asked and pointed with two fingers at her daughters' shirts one by one. As they both looked down, Miranda raised her fingers quickly, flicking them lightly against their noses and giggling as she did so.

The twins laughed and Andy bit her lower lip, feeling a wide smile spread across her face. She has never seen that side of Miranda.

The woman straightened up and, saying a soft 'shoo', waved her hand, signalling the girls to leave the closets and followed them, turning off the light and then closing the door. Before she could turn around, the twins were standing next to Andy, who was finally able to stand on her feet. As Miranda turned to go up the stairs, she saw Andy and jumped in place, putting both hands to her chest.

"Jesus Christ!" She hissed and closed her eyes for a moment, calming down.

"I'm really sorry, Miranda!" Andy whispered and ran down the two steps, getting closer, the smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth — she couldn't get the scene she had just witnessed out of her mind. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Miranda opened her eyes and blinked a few times, looking at Andy from head to toe a few times, glancing in the meantime at where the Book had been lying for a long time.

"Andrea, what on earth are you doing here?"

Andy was ready to confess all her sins when at that moment Caroline came closer and grabbed her hand.

"It's our fault, momma. She brought the Book and we talked to her."

"Is that so?" Miranda asked with a raised eyebrow, and Andy couldn't believe that despite her presence, the woman's voice still had that warm tone she had never used outside the walls of this house. It was surreal.

"Yeah." Cassidy added and stood on Andy's other side. "She totally wanted to go, but we were convincing."

Miranda smirked and looked at Andy, who almost melted under her gaze, which was almost as gentle as the one she directed at her children.

"You two off to bed." She said and tilted her head slightly forward in response to the whining of the twins. "Chop, chop!, and send Cara here, she has to get some rest from you two."

Cassidy laughed and waved goodnight to Andy as she ran upstairs. Caroline, on the other hand, snorted under her breath, smiled at her and followed her sister at a much more leisurely pace.

Andy watched them going upstairs for a moment before finally lowering her head and only then realizing that she was alone with Miranda, who had just returned from a business dinner. She shouldn't be here. The smile disappeared from her face, and she opened her mouth a few times, not knowing what to say. Finally, she raised her hand and tapped her face lightly and laughed awkwardly.

"So, umm, I'll better go, it's really late."

Miranda inhaled through her nose and nodded twice as she stepped aside in the doorway. Andy walked awkwardly past her and towards the door, hearing that Miranda had decided to walk her out. She turned around again and frowned slightly, her brow and eyes furrowing.

"I'm really sorry, it won't happen again. I know that you're very private, and..."

"Andrea." Miranda interrupted her and jerked her chin towards the door.

"Yeah, right, sorry." She whispered and grabbed the door handle.

She stepped outside and turned around again, unable to stop herself from letting out another apology that was sure to fall from her lips, but Miranda was faster. She stood half-hidden behind the door, leaning her head against it, her hand placed in-between. She looked at Andy pointedly, which immediately silenced her.

"Stop apologizing." She said and closed the door.

Andy sighed heavily and buried her face in her hands. She whined loudly and finally turned around and went down the stairs, turned left and walked towards the subway station.

'Andy: I ​​spent like an hour with her kids, and she wasn't mad.'

'Andy: I ​​genuinely think that I'm going crazy.'

'Andy: She was so adorable with them, omg.'

'Douggy: That's the last word I would use to describe Miranda Priestly.'

'Andy: That's cause you don't know her like I do.'

Chapter Text

Even though she was never a believer, she prayed briefly and put the phone to her forehead for a few seconds, closing her eyes. Then, she finally gathered herself and, sniffing unattractively, dialled her mother's number.

One ring, two, three... Andy at some point felt a wave of relief that she might not pick up, and she wouldn't have to-

"Andy, sweetheart! How are you?" Her mother's voice rang on the phone and Andy held her breath for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Oh, umm, hi, mom." She answered uncertainly and closed her eyes, scratching her head.

She was sitting at the table in her apartment, trying to call her parents for an hour. She needed her father to help her with the interrogation, and with the documents regarding Elias-Clarke. However, she had no idea how she should go about this conversation. Confessing to her parents that she had hit a stranger on the street, not out of self-defence, but simply because he deserved it, didn't seem like the best option. However, she had absolutely no other choice. If she expected help from her dad, she had to tell him what happened, and if he knew something, so did her mom. Of the two options left to her, she decided that the woman would take it much better if she heard it directly from Andy, rather than from her husband, who would surely add a few unnecessary words of his own.

Andy decided that if she was going to listen to long lectures about what kind of person they had raised her to be, she wanted to do it on her own terms as much as possible.

"You finally remembered about us!" The woman said and Andy rolled her eyes hard, shaking her head at Doug, who was sitting on the couch eating pasta. "Tell me what's new! Did you know that Jill finally called? I couldn't believe it, such a nice surprise. They're coming to visit us next weekend together with little Isaac, maybe you could come too?"

Doug smiled to himself, probably hearing her mother's long monologues even from a distance. Elizabeth Sachs was a woman known for how much she loved to just talk.

"As much as I want to, I can't." She assured. "A lot of work and all that, you know? How's Jill?"

"I was sure that she at least calls you more often than he calls us. Don't you two have contact?"

Andy sighed and scratched her forehead, wincing slightly. She switched the phone to her other hand and picked up her fork and started pushing the pasta around the plate — she didn't feel like eating at all.

"Not really. She sends me some pictures of the kid, but that's it."

"Then you have to come home. Tell your Miranda to give you three days off." Her mother said in a confident voice, obviously happy with her idea.

"Yeah, about that..." Andy sighed heavily.

There was no point in lying about her plans for next weekend. She could come up with something else, but knowing her luck, something would happen that would lead to her mother finding out about Miranda's three-day family trip to Hampton's. Nothing was hidden from this woman.

"What is it?" She asked, and the familiar note in her voice made Andy immediately recognize her mother's change in attitude towards their conversation. "Tell me."

Aside from the obvious concern for her daughter, Elizabeth Sachs tended to go into therapy mode with her daughters. Of course, she never called it that, but Andy, when she was younger, when the clients were coming to their house, had heard the way her mother talked to them. Her tone of voice changed completely. It happened that during conversations with her children, her intonation changed, falling into the rhythm of work. Andy had to admit that if it weren't for the fact that i was her mother, she would have been happy to tell her everything — she was a great psychologist. However, giving the blood line, Andy said as little as possible.

"I-, umm, I won't be in the city next weekend." She mumbled and ignored Doug's soft chuckle with all her might. "Umm, I'm going to the Hampton's."

"What?" Her mother squawked on the phone and, as she always did when it came to anything involving her daughters, she came to the completely wrong conclusions; "Have you met someone new that lives there? What about Nate?"

"What?" Andy asked broadly confused. "No! Me and Nate... we... exist. I'm going with Miranda and her kids."

She couldn't get it out of her mouth that her husband would be there too.

"Oh, well... what for?"

"Work." She said it simply, because what else could she? Plus, she honestly didn't think she was going there for any other reason. Miranda was a workaholic, and she certainly took one of her assistants with her every year to keep everything under control even during the holidays. "Hey, umm, how's dad?"

"Your dad is fine. He's working in the garden at the moment, would you like to talk to him?" She asked and Andy could hear the shuffling of the phone. "He finally got up from the couch and started replanting my petunias. You can't imagine how much I had to ask for him to finally do it, especially now that I can't do anything by myself with a broken arm.

"B-broken arm? What the hell mom! Why didn't you say anything?" Andy blinked faster and straightened up in her chair, setting her fork on the table, deciding to give up the pretence that she was actually eating that pasta.

"If you had called, you would have known." Her mother replied firmly, making Andy feel guilty. "I fell down a week ago and felt dizzy. I'm fine."

"Okay, well, damn, mom." She sighed and leaned back against the back of the chair, bending one leg under her. "How do you feel now?"

"It's been better, but I'm not complaining. Richard!" She screamed and Andy almost jumped in place, not expecting such a sudden change in decibels. "It's Andy!"

"Hey, kid! How's it going?" Her father's voice on the phone put Andy in a much better mood.

She talked to him even less than she did to her mother, but she knew he had no problem with that. Andy had never been good at communicating with her parents or family members in general on the phone, and her dad shared that trait with her. They spoke to each other very rarely, but when one of them needed something, they always answered and it was as if sometimes there was no break of several months between them.

"Hey, dad, I have a request."

"Whatever you need."

She smiled and bit her lower lip, not sure how her father would take it. She glanced at Doug, who, his mouth stuffed with pasta, gave her two thumbs up. She was grateful for his silent support.

"Just promise me, that after I tell you, you won't scream, because I haven't told mom yet, and you know how she's like..."

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice, kid" He muttered and Andy laughed brokenly.

"Okay, well, umm, remember you said you had some lawyer friends in New York? Well-"

"What did you do?"

"- I might need one." She said in an almost questioning tone. Andy felt like a little girl when she talked to her parents, and it was such an uncomfortable feeling that she always used it as an excuse for not calling them. "I, well, not that it's a habit for me, or something, but I punched a guy. On the street."

"Was it self-defence?"

"Not really." She admitted. "He was insulting my boss and tried to grab her and I reacted."

The long sigh on the other end told her everything she needed to know about the whole situation.

"I'll send you the number to Frank Dinkens. Tell him you're my daughter; he owns me one. He's a great lawyer, he'll help you with everything, so listen to him carefully."

"You're my favourite dad!" She almost squealed and wished she could hug him right now.

"I should hope so!" He laughed, and the timbre of his voice made Andy feel a warmth melt in her stomach — she really missed him. "I have to get back to work, your mother is looking at me because her flowers are waiting. Call me when you're done with this whole thing!"

"Thanks!"

"Why do you need the number to Frank?" Her mother asked, back on the phone, and Andy took a big breath to get ready for the storm to come.

On Monday morning she woke up sweaty and wanting to jump out of the window.

She didn't think the time would pass so quickly from receiving the letter to the actual day she had to go to the police station. Despite meeting with a recommended lawyer and two long conversations during which she was prepared on what to say and how, Andy felt that she knew nothing. If someone asked her now what Frank said, she wouldn't be able to answer.

She glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand next to the bed; 5am. She took two deep breaths and stood up, fanning herself with her hand under her shirt because it was damn hot, although she wasn't sure if she was sweating from the temperature or the stress — maybe both.

Nate was still sleeping, so, taking the phone, she lifted Little Laggy from the bed and, hugging him to her, she left the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind her. She put the cat down on the table — her mom would get a stroke, but Andy assumed that no matter what she did, the cat would jump on the table if he wanted to, so there was no point in arguing with him — and reached for the can of food in one of the cabinets. She poured him an appropriate amount and, after giving him ten more kisses, she finally left him to eat while she went into the bathroom to take a shower.

She was in the middle of applying shampoo to her head when her phone started ringing. She blindly pushed the shower door open and answered when she felt foam run into her eye.

"Fuck." She hissed and, being careful not to get the phone wet, turned the water on again with her free hand to wash away the remaining foam and wipe her stinging eye.

"Excuse me?" Miranda said, and Andy almost fell over.

She quickly turned off the water and grabbed the towel from the hanger, deciding to just press it to her face because when she put pressure on her eyes, it hurt a little less.

"Miranda! Oh God, hi!" She started and laughed nervously, feeling herself start to sweat again despite the cool shower. "What can I do for you?"

The woman still seemed confused by the assistant's unusual greeting, because she didn't speak for a moment.

"Andrea, what are you doing?"

Andy would love to know the answer to that question. She felt like her life was falling apart from one day to the next. She couldn't keep up with it all; Nate, a lawsuit, a possible traitor on Runway, and on top of it all, her biggest problem — the woman she just talked to on the phone. Of all people, Miranda fucking Priestly was the one to make Andy question her sexual orientation.

But she guessed that wasn't what Miranda was asking, so, still focused on the fact that her eye was surely half melted, she told the truth without beating around the bush.

"I'm standing in the shower and there's foam in my eye."

For the first time she understood so clearly what loud silence meant.

"Oh." Miranda gasped after what felt like hours. "Well-" She cleared her throat, and Andy had to concentrate hard to hear every word she said because the woman spoke so quietly. "Then call me back when you're... dressed."

That was weird, Andy thought. She couldn't count how many times she answered in the most inconvenient places and situations, and until now Miranda had never considered it. She wiped her eye twice more with the towel and finally moved it away from her face and blinked a few times. It still stung a little, but it wasn't a disaster —she'd have to wash it off as soon as she'll put the phone down.

"That's okay." She assured, breathing a little heavier, trying not to think about the pain. "What can I do for you?"

Miranda muttered something under her breath that Andy didn't hear and was ready to risk her life and ask her to repeat it when the woman started talking herself;

"Don't come to work before the interrogation. I'll meet you there at 8:30 sharp." And with that she ended the call.

Andy did just that.

She felt strange that she was still at home after 7 a.m. with her cat on her lap. She was completely unused to such things. Yes, she had weekends off, but still, Miranda almost always called and there was yet another thing to do. This woman had never considered anything like the fact that calling people, sometimes before sunrise on Saturdays and Sundays, was not normal.

But it must have been a bit too much for Andy, because she had no idea what to do with herself during the almost three extra hours she could spend at home. She had already had a bath, so there was no question of going back to bed, even though she felt like she should. The stress was starting to get to her, though, and she didn't think she'd even be able to fall asleep again, despite yawning a lot.

"Oh my God!" She whispered and looked at Laggy with wide eyes, covering her mouth with one hand.

The cat looked at her, and Andy only now realized how awkward a situation she had put Miranda in. She tilted her head back, letting out a frustrated breath, and buried her face in her hands.

Laggy obviously wasn't happy about not being petted any more, so he climbed up onto her chest, meowed twice, and touched Andy with his paw on the nose.

Andy opened her eyes and looked down at the cat and kissed him twice quickly.

"You're so lucky, that you're a cat, you know?" She said and jumped slightly as the bedroom door opened, creaking softly.

Nate came out scratching his head, wearing only long pyjama pants — his chest bare. Andy looked at him carefully, knowing that there was no point in talking to him immediately after he woke up. Just a few months ago, she would have enjoyed admiring his body. She has always liked guys with slim figures. Big muscles have never particularly appealed to her. Jill always laughed at her, that for Andy to like a man, he had to look much more... feminine... than masculine.

She swallowed at the thought.

She always argued with her older sister about it, insisting that it wasn't like that at all. Now, however, it turned out that Jill was much more right in her sarcastic comments than Andy would have ever admitted. Even now, looking at Nate, who looked really good, she couldn't get the comparison out of her head that women's bodies were much more beautiful and attractive.

She didn't allow herself to start thinking about what Miranda's body looked like, especially when she put on extremely tight dresses. This woman was nothing more than a little crush, and Andy had no intention of letting her momentary mental lapse spill over into the sexual realm.

No way.

The only problem was that once the thought came into her head, she couldn't get it out. She noticed that she often blushed around Miranda — it was hard to miss. Her body burned every time this woman looked at her... periodt. Did that mean that Andy was also physically fascinated by her? Well, Miranda was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but until now Andy hadn't focused on her appearance that much. Yeah, she really liked her hair, especially that one hairstyle, also she really liked her mannerisms, and maybe her hand — they were very slim. Also legs, yes, she often looked at them, especially at the meetings, when she was sitting behind Miranda and was drawing her. She'd always start with the legs... But that was it. It's not like she was thinking about shoving Miranda on the desk in her office, lifting her skirt and taking care of her in a way that she was sure Stephen couldn't.

"Andy?" Nate asked and looked at her with furrowed eyes as he took a few steps closer. "Everything alright? Your whole face is red."

She blinked a few times, and looked at him half-consciously. "Huh?" She wasn't sure what he said, but she realized how hard she was breathing at that moment, and when she remembered how lost she was in her own mind, she cleared her throat in embarrassment and shook her head. "No, I'm fine, it's just really hot today, isn't it?"

"I guess." He said. "I'm going to take a shower."

Andy inhaled loudly, not fully understanding what had just happened. She quickly reached for her phone and picked the number of her very best psychologist, hoping he was already awake.

'Andy: Doug, I need help.'

'Andy: But you have to promise me, that you won't laugh.'

'Andy: Never mind, I won't tell you.'

She threw the phone on the couch next to her and put her hands back on the cat, and he immediately responded with a loud purr. There was no way she would share something like that with a friend. For a moment she felt like she needed it and maybe it would be good for her, but Andy felt it was far too private. Thinking about Miranda in such terms was not something she would ever dare speak out loud, even with Doug.

She had no idea what to do, but she'll have to figure it out on her own.