DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Kerri from Passion and Perfection for beating this.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Andy sat in the comfortable black leather seat of a Mercedes whose price she could only estimate to be more than she could ever make in a year. It had been a long time since she had been in a car like this. It was beyond her how she could have forgotten the shear amount of leg space the back seat of a luxury car afforded or the feel of the cool rich leather against the back of her knees. Luxury cars Andy decided were aptly named. Unfortunately for her it was a luxury she would never afford. She had become used to that thought over the last year and a half but as she had known for a long time the universe always conspired to throw anything and everything it could at her.
It was a surprisingly beautiful evening in New York. The sky was clear and the city lights sparkled as Andy looked at them from the car. Not being a native New Yorker she was still fascinated by the grandeur of New York. Of course it didn't have the classic romantic beauty of Paris or the indisputable elegance of London but New York had a certain attitude that attracted you to her. Andy had always been mesmerized by people and places that could do that. That could show all their flaws along with their virtues and still make you fall for them. It was, she thought, one of the coolest things she had every experienced. The experience became more overwhelming when you were talking about a person. She guessed it was because with people, seeing their flaws usually meant finding out they were not what you expected, it usually meant disappointment, and in extreme cases hate. She had been unfortunate enough to have experienced all three cases. She had definitely been captivated by New York and was well on her way to becoming an adopted New Yorker, she experienced the second with plenty of people throughout her life, and well the third had been the one to leave a real mark on her.
A mark she still carried. The very reason she was in the luxury car driving through New York towards Fifth Avenue.
She had been taken to the point of no return by Miranda. She could still remember the first wave of disappointment at finding out her boss was not only aloof but a sadist. The feeling of disappointment had been mixed with a twisted form of admiration, because truth be told Miranda Priestly was one of a kind and damn good at her job. So good that she had every right to say that no one could do what she did on a daily bases. Her experience with Miranda had then turned into something akin to hate. Andy didn't like to admit it but she had hated Miranda a one point. She had definitely been fed up of her shit when she left her in Paris. But she had also been terrified because as much as she hated Miranda she had begun to worship her, just like the clackers. She had started to become Miranda. She hadn't been able to see it until Miranda had said the words herself. Apparently Miranda Priestly was not satisfied with torturing her while she had worked for her or with destroying her stable loving personal life. No, her experience with Miranda had culminated with a stupid wave across Elias-Clarke and a long walk to her apartment during which Andy realized to her great horror that she had been happy and excited to see Miranda and that she missed her. She didn't miss all the bullshit, who would, but she did miss Miranda. She missed just seeing her everyday.
She hadn't seen Miranda since that fateful anticlimactic day. And Andy had tried to put Runway and Miranda Priestly and anything remotely related to that world behind her. She had thrown herself into her work at the Mirror with gusto. She had wanted to show the world just what kind of person she really was. She had tried her damn hardest to prove Miranda wrong, to show she didn't have one ounce of Miranda in her. That she was absolutely nothing like her. Andy had been somewhat successful. She had made a name for herself at the Mirror for her honest reporting and go-getter attitude. She had found her place within three months and she liked it. She had been in heaven, a new life were no one barked for scalding hot Starbucks and her phone didn't go off every five-seconds, a world where people actually said goodbye over the phone instead of just hanging up.
It had been an incredible three months. Then, she woke up one day and could do nothing but think about Miranda. She'd ignored it, but it went on for a few weeks before she decided to do something about it. Andy being a writer decided that exorcising her demon by putting pen to paper, or typing, would be the best way to make Miranda's voice leave her the hell alone. So she had typed away. Andy had never been big on keeping dairies but knew the basics of it and thought it would be the most logical way of recounting her nine months at Runway. So she wrote and wrote. She wrote every chance she got. It was very therapeutic. Two months later she was looking at an astonishing amount of pages. It was done, but Miranda's voice hadn't left her.
She had decided that she would just have to live with it. Miranda had become the voice of her conscience. It was weird but she seemed to have little choice and no one would have to know. She had pushed it to the back of her mind and continued with her routine. That was until a remarkably stupid conversation with Lily and Doug on the subject of journals and autobiographies where she had unthinkingly thrown it out there. Doug had thought it was cool and joked about her having already written her first book. She joined his laughter. Lily however had thought Andy should publish it, saying that people would love to know what someone like Miranda Priestley actually did on a day to day basis. Andy said that wasn't what the book was about. She was stunned that she had actually referred to it as a book, it wasn't a book just a bunch of pages on her laptop but the title stuck.
A few days later Lily called her and gave her the number of a friend of friend who happened to be in publishing and would love to see what she had done. Andy had been speechless. Lily seemed to notice and did everything to convince her but Andy refused. It wasn't until mid-March after almost three months of hearing Lily repeatedly tell her to call the guy that Andy gave in. After that it had all sort of spiral out of control. All Andy remembered was that Richard had loved it and thought it would be a best seller and wanted to put it in their autumn launch. Then Richard had asked for a few necessary changes, mainly the names of famous people and places that could sue for slander. Andy had agreed to it all in a kind of daze. Afterwards she had gone home and made all the changes Richard had asked for. After an unbelievable number of meetings he told her it would be out in September and that they were really going to push the book. There would be all sorts of signings she would have to do including the book launch.
Then there she was heading towards the biggest Barnes and Noble in the city for the launch of her book, The Devil Wears Prada. Lily had come up with the title and Richard had loved it. Andy was so sure that she shouldn't compare Miranda to the devil. But what the publisher liked he got so Andy had accepted it. It had turned out to be a very popular title. The book had been given very good reviews so far but no one had gone as nuts as the fashion world. She would never know how the fashion industry got a hold of it but every imaginable magazine had been leaving her interview offers on her answering machine. It seemed that despite the name changes everyone knew just who Andy was talking about. Of course she guessed it wasn't that difficult to put two and two together. Any writer working for any of those magazines would have only needed to make one call to Runway to find out Andy had undoubtedly worked for Miranda. And by the looks of it every magazine and newspaper had made that call. The book reviewer at the Mirror had only to look into the employee files to confirm it. The Mirror's venture into the lowly topic of fashion was excused by it being related to an inside scoop book by one of its own, as the reviewer had written in last Sunday's paper.
The driver opened the door and Andy stepped out on the side walk. There were a few chic people outside. Andy took a deep breath and walked inside. The place was huge yet there didn't seem to be enough space to swing a cat. Andy felt she would be overwhelmed. Then she felt someone grab her arm.
"Lily," She said smiling at seeing a familiar face.
"Hey we were starting to worry, you're late."
"Traffic was hell." She said as they made their was towards the back of the store where a podium and rows of chairs had been set up for the reading.
"Yeah well you're lucky we couldn't start without you." Andy smiled again. Having Lily be part of the launching had done a great deal to alleviate her nerves. Her best friend was just the calming presence she would need if she was to get up in front of all those people.
"OK so you got the passage and everything?" Andy nodded. "The one Richard wanted?"
"No, I told both of you I wouldn't read that." Her voice was firm.
Andy cut her off, "Don't worry I got something entertaining enough."
"Ok time to introduce you I suppose." Andy nodded again and saw Lily run up to the podium. She saw Lily's lips move but couldn't really concentrate on the sounds she was making. It was only because she saw people clap that she was able to know it was her turn to get up there.
She walked to the podium purposely and stood behind it with a certain attitude about her that would make people pay attention. A little trick she had pick up from the devil herself. She said a quick hello and thank you for coming then gave them what they had come for some Miranda bashing from the only person crazy enough to be recognized for it. She read.
My thoughts were interrupted by the phone.
"Natalie? Hello? Is anyone there? Natalie!" I jumped out of my seat the moment I heard her voice. It took a moment to remember that she was not, in fact, in the office-or even the country, and for the time being, at least, I was safe. Natalie was not in the office as Miranda well knew since she had called her not ten minutes before and sent her out to do god knew what. I could only guessed it had been a profoundly horrid order since Natalie had almost had a nervous breakdown before heading out the door. This fact was apparently, like my name, irrelevant to Helen Ainsworth.
"I simply do not understand what takes you so long to speak after you pick up the phone," she stated. Any other person would have made it sound whiny, but Helen made it sound appropriately cold and firm. Just like her. "In case, you haven't been here long enough to notice, when I call, you respond. It's actually simple. See? I call. You respond. Do you think you can handle that, Natalie?"
She had picked something that had made her laugh when she had written it. It still made her laugh and so she had some trouble keeping a smile off her face as she continued the reading. It went on for all of five minutes. After all, if the ultra chic outfits should be taken as representative of just what type of people where there, even that was trying their attention span. Andy stepped down from the podium to see Lily and Richard smiling at her. Well, she thought, at least they had liked it.
Andy followed them to her designated table where numerous copies of the book were stacked on top of each other. She sat down, opened a bottle of water, and gave Richard the heads up. The first person came up and gabbed about how much she'd heard about the book while Andy dutifully smiled and nodded and signed. Soon enough she noticed her hand was cramping up and that the mountain of copies of the book had been demoted to a very medium size hill. Andy didn't know how many copies she had signed but she was tired.
It was the fact that she was tired, she would decide later, that prevented her from noticing the almost total silence that descended on the book store. It was why she missed the shift in the air and was completely shocked when she reached out to take a copy of the book from the next person in line and looked into the cool blue eyes of Miranda.
Andy's eyes went wide and she would have dropped the book had it not been for the piercing look Miranda was giving her. Andy recognized the challenge in those cold eyes. The way Miranda seemed to dare people to do anything that would cause a scandal.
Calm down. Breathe. Easy does it. Andy told herself.
It didn't have to be completely awkward after all, even if she was on Miranda's most wanted list.
"Miranda," She said trying to sound as friendly and unaffected as possible. "What a surprise."
Miranda smiled one of those shit eating smiles Andy had once seen directed at Jacqueline at one of the Runway benefits. Miranda used it, Andy knew, mostly on people she wanted dead.
"Ahn-dre-ah," Miranda said and surprised Andy even more by leaning in to give her an air kiss on each cheek. "How could I miss the launch of the most talked about book in the city?"
The words were calculated and it's only then that Andy notices that every pair of eyes in the store was resting on them. It was like being in a fish bowl. Andy realized then that Miranda's presence was calculated as well. Was she there to stop the gossiping? To show she really didn't care what anyone writes about her? Andy couldn't be sure but decided it was best to follow Miranda's lead on this.
"I'm afraid it's been highly exaggerated. You know the story Miranda. You know it's not all that interesting." Andy said finally opening Miranda's copy of the book and beginning to write.
"I suppose the story changes with the point of view."
Andy looked at the dedication she's just written and wonders if it was a good idea. Before she could make up her mind fully she hands it over to Miranda hoping she wouldn't look at it.
No such luck. Miranda opened the book and Andy could see the words coming alive in her mind.
To the fabulous woman that inspired this by turning my world up side down. You were right as usual. I can't just close my eyes again.-Andrea
Andy focused on Miranda looking for any indication of her thoughts. There wasn't much. All she got was a raised eyebrow and an inquisitive look.
Andy wasn't sure she has heard right but before she could check Miranda had already walked away. Andy could only stare at her retreating form as the volume of conversations rose dramatically.
The next month went by in a flood of book signings and readings. Richard had gotten her invited to about every party going on in New York during the weekends when she'd came back home from LA, Miami, or where ever the hell he had sent her. Everything including the parties was about promoting the book. We have to really push it Richard kept reminding her. Andy did her best and went without sleep for days at a time. When she wasn't promoting the book she was writing something for her column.
The few hours in her schedule that were supposed to be spent sleeping were often taken up by Miranda and the stupid dedication Andy had written. Sometimes she would get so frustrated at herself for it that she would scream into her hotel pillow to feel better. She couldn't really understand what had possessed her to do the unthinkable, being honest with Miranda. She could understand that, yes, Miranda had changed her life and had really taken over her, but she just didn't get why she had felt the need to let Miranda know it. The only thing she felt grateful for was that she hadn't completely spilled the beans.
By the time Andy got back to her normal life it was October and though the city never slowed down New Yorkers were sporting jackets and Central Park had become a cacophony of color. Unlike the Park her mind was harmonious. All it could ever do was think about Miranda. Andy hadn't really minded the whole thing where Miranda's voice had become the voice of her conscious or the dreams she sometimes had where Miranda would pop in out of nowhere and do nothing but say her name in that weird way only she used. Some nights Andy really enjoyed the dreams. But dreams were one thing. What she could not put up with were the waking fantasies that she had started to have sometime over the last two weeks, she would space out at completely inappropriate times, or the extremely detailed wet dreams after which she woke with a frustration level of a thousand. It all served to make her already hard long days unbearable.
It was on the second day back when Andy was going through the last week's mail that she found it, a small pristine white envelope with silver border and Miranda's name written in neat flowing letters that Andy recognized as Miranda's own handwriting. Inside was a piece of paper that matched the envelope.
I finally finished the book. I can see what people see in it. It was to say the least a revelation for me, though in my opinion you gave the story up on page eight. I have to say you never did open your eyes. M.
That was it.
Andy held Miranda's personal stationary in shaky hands and read it again. The message she knew held a lot more information than the four sentences revealed at first glance. It was just a matter of figuring out just what the hell Miranda was trying to tell her. Andy just couldn't decipher it then, there was too much blood pumping loudly in her ears for her to think properly.
Deciding instead to go for the one obvious clue she looked for a copy of the book. She tossed around the enormous pile of papers on her desk but found nothing. She searched all over her living room but came up empty. Then remembering about a copy she had left it the drawer of her nightstand she raced to her room. She reached the nightstand, pulled it out and opened it deliberately to page eight and read.
Maybe she'd die before I got back, I thought, deciding that now was the time to look on the bright side.
Andy cringed. Why?
Maybe, just maybe, she'd keel over from something rare and exotic we'd all be released from her wellspring of misery.
You don't want her to die, I thought, stretching out in the backseat. Because if she does, you'll lose all hope of killing her yourself. And that would be a shame.
"Fuck," Andy said to the empty room as she closed her eyes and let her head drop back against the hard wood of the headboard. She opened her eyes and looked between Miranda's note and the book.
"Just what the fuck were you thinking?" She asked herself. It was then she realized she had committed the ultimate sin not only in Miranda's book but her own, she had sold out. Andy pressed her fingers against her eyes, focusing on the pressure instead of her thoughts.
She hadn't lied in the book. She had really written it like a dairy putting everything she had felt while at Runway in it. She was sure Miranda had suspected as much, frankly she had to have known all of her employees lived in fear of her and some even hated her. Yes, but to actually write it down for the entertainment of the masses, well that was a whole other ball game.
That was disloyalty. Total and complete disloyalty! She had been disloyal. Andy laughed darkly.
Disloyalty! Wasn't that why you left her?! Andy's conscious, aka Miranda's voice, screamed as loudly as possible. Wasn't that what you had been so disgusted with, that she demanded loyalty but was disloyal herself?
Of all the things she could possible do to piss Miranda off. Andy couldn't really believe she had actually agreed to publish the book and it was now in the hands of all the people that already hated Miranda secretly. She had given them ammunition. It was the last thing Andy had wanted. Disgusted with herself and teary eyed she fell asleep.
She woke up the next day to the small amount of sun light that filtered through her bedroom window. Andy turned her head slightly to see it was already eight in the morning. She sighed, threw her sheets off and headed for the bathroom. She needed to get to work.
After only an hour back behind her desk at the Mirror she realize she should have asked for an extra day off to recuperate from her marathon month. Her day swirled around her in a mix of meetings and phone calls. It wasn't until half way through the afternoon that she had a spare minute and of course her mind drifted straight to Miranda. Andy couldn't help feelings horrible about the whole book thing and worst still about the note Miranda had sent her. It was somewhere between getting a new assignment and doing research that she decided she had to do something about it. She logged into yahoo and looked through her electronic address book, which she had never cleaned out, and found among a whole bunch of people she hadn't spoke to in years, Miranda's email. It wasn't her personal one, of course, but Andy thought it was better to send it to her Runway account anyway considering she probably checked it a hundred times a day.
She took a sip of her fourth cup of coffee and stared at the blank screen for a while trying to think of the best possible way to frame what she needed to say. She drummed her fingers on the keyboard for a while then began to write. She stopped looked at it and hit backspace. She started again and got as far as asking Miranda what she meant about not opening her eyes and then hit backspace again erasing the entire message. She stopped. Took a breath and another sip of coffee, and tried again. This time she decided to make it as simple and short as possible considering the jumble state of her thoughts.
I don't know what people see in it, it's a stupid book that wasn't meant to be published. I didn't write it to sell it. It was supposed to be for me. Page eight, well I can't do anything but apologize for that. I did open my eyes, you forced me to. I'm sorry.
Andy looked at it with trepidation, what if it was another of those things she shouldn't say to Miranda not even in writing. Trying to calm down she grabbed her coffee and drank. Clinging to the mug she moved the mouse slowly to the send button and paused over it for a second before clicking on it. The email sped out into the web and out of her hands. No way to get it back now.
Andy had checked her email about ten times by the time six o'clock came around. She was sure Miranda would have gotten the email by then but there was no response. She went home empty handed, thoughts of disloyalty still dominating her mind.
By the time Friday rolled around Andy was about ready to go out of her mind. It was incredible to her that the days had seemed to crawl to a halt, making it almost impossible for her to concentrate on her work. She would wake, usually after having dreamt of Miranda, go in to the Mirror at eight and start typing away at whatever article out of three she had been working on. She would go to lunch at around one and then back to the office until six. It was a cycle she only broke to check, exactly every ten minutes, her email. But to her absolutely horror Miranda had as of yet not written back.
It didn't look good to Andy whose fragile nerves were practically on the verge of collapse when she sat in front of her computer on Friday morning and logged into yahoo expecting the same results. She almost spilled her Starbucks all over herself when she saw it. There among all the other junk she usually got from Lily, Dough, Nate, and her parents was Miranda's reply. Andy clicked on it and waited.
I didn't ask for an apology. That's all.
That's all?! No, it very well was not all! Andy closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to keep from screaming at her computer. She didn't need people around the office thinking she was nuts. She deleted the email and slumped back against her chair. What the hell was she supposed to do? How could she explain herself to Miranda? Why the fuck did I feel the need to? Andy berated herself. She had tried after all, and all she had gotten for her troubles was a Miranda style 'fuck off.' She wanted to feel the same way but she couldn't. Andy forced Miranda to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on work.
She wasn't very successful.
After what she guessed was the worst possible day in her life Andy went home completely exhausted. She hadn't made much progress at work and even worst she had been a complete bitch to the few people that ventured to ask her something. She hadn't meant it and she would find a way to fix it later but she just couldn't deal with it that day.
When she got home she dropped her bag on the nearest possible space, which happened to be the floor, and made her way to the kitchen. She grabbed the most expensive bottle of wine she owned and proceeded to drown Miranda's voice in a bold red.
When she next surfaced it was as her stupid alarm clock reminding her it was eight in the morning. She couldn't remember setting it, but then again she couldn't remember a damn thing about the night before. Just what the fuck had happen to her. She tried to sit up and almost fell back down as the room started spinning around her. It took her a good twenty minutes before she was able to move again. It was as she got up and stumbled on an empty wine bottle that she figured out exactly what had happened.
"No wonder." She mumbled to herself on the way to the bathroom.
An hour later she grabbed her favorite jacket, a red corduroy thing she had gotten at the Gap at some point, and headed out the door. She felt better as soon as her high heeled boots hit the pavement. Andy took a deep breath and popped yet another chewable Tylenol into her mouth. She felt at home for the first time since she had gotten back.
Andy made her way up W 106 heading towards Central Park three blocks down. She decided all she needed was some greenery and sun to get her bearings back. She found the nearest entrance and made her way through a trail towards the southern end of the park. She stopped every once in a while to get a hot dog and then some ice cream. Sometime just before noon she made it to her favorite place in the entire park Bethesda fountain. She sat down on the edge of the fountain and looked at people go by for what seemed like an eternity.
When Andy looked at her watch for the second time, she found out that not twenty minutes had gone by since she had last checked it. She sighed there was nothing for it then. She couldn't stop thinking about Miranda. Not just the book or the note or the emails but just Miranda herself. When she checked her watch again five minutes later she gave up on the whole idea of relaxing by the cool waters of Bethesda and starting walking again.
She walked and walked and then walked some more. She just wanted to get rid of the images of Miranda running through her mind, the voice she already knew she would never get rid of. When she realized she was right across the street from Miranda's townhouse she froze. Just what the hell had she been thinking about! She stood there a good five minutes trying to decide whether she should cross the street or not.
Just when she had decided she was definitely not crazy enough to cross the street and was about to walk away she saw a little redheaded girl open the door and stare across the road straight at her. Andy froze yet again. She saw, to her great surprise, recognition in the bright blue eyes. OH GOD! What the hell was she supposed to do? She wanted to run but couldn't make her legs move. Before she could force some action from her non-responsive body she heard something that horrified her.
"Mom!" Andy looked across as Miranda came running, yes actually running, out of the house. It took all of twenty-seconds for Miranda to follow the girl's finger across the street to where she stood.
Andy could no longer hear the traffic around her. Instead she could only hear Miranda 's sharp tone as she told her daughter to go inside, and then the sound of Miranda's high heels clacking against the pavement. Her heart raced and her head spun, and then Miranda was right in front of her.
No way out. No way to escape. Fuck.
"What are you doing here Ahn-dre-ah? Are you stalking me?"
Miranda sounded cool and collected. The exact opposite of how she felt. "Umm no ah no of course not."
"Then what are you doing here?" Miranda intoned in the same way she had done during Andy's interview. It was the tone that seemed to say 'you don't belong here.'
"I was " What? What could she possible come up with that wouldn't sound stupid or crazy? "I was just walking."
"Walking?" Andy nodded. "And you just happened to end up in front of my house?" Andy wasn't sure if Miranda was pissed off or simply making fun of her.
"Yeah, I was in the park and then thought ."
"What? That you should pay me a visit!" Ok now Andy was pretty sure Miranda wasn't pissed off, nope Miranda had skipped pissed and had gone straight to being incensed. No funnies, just pure outrage.
"I need to talk to you." Andy said figuring out that was the reason she was there. She wanted to talk to Miranda. No, she needed to talk to her. Now.
"Leave." Miranda said turning toward the street ready to cross it once more.
Andy reached out and grabbed her wrist. It was soft and warm, and Andy could feel Miranda's pulse going a lot faster than normal. Miranda tried to pull away but Andy only held on tighter. When Miranda finally turned back to Andy her eyes were spitting fire. "I. Need. To. Talk. To. You."
"Then don't just stand there." Miranda said before practically yanking her hand away and crossing the street.
Andy stood there for a second before following her across the street and into the open door of the white townhouse. Just inside the door stood not one but two little red heads.
"Girls go to your room." Miranda said in a sweet but firm tone.
"But mom we were about to " Started the one that had spotted Andy.
"I'll call you down later. Now go upstairs." Miranda interrupted. The twins looked at their mother then at Andy and headed up the stairs.
Miranda walked down the hall to the back of the house, Andy followed. Miranda sat at one end of the blue and cream striped sofa and Andy sat nervously on the other end. They sat there looking at each other until Miranda broke the silence. "Well? You made it sound like a national emergency."
Andy laughed out of pure nerves, and then stopped abruptly at Miranda's raised eyebrow.
"Right Miranda I know you said you didn't ask for an apology but I need to apologize. I'm sorry about all the things I put in the book. It was supposed to be for my eyes only and it was by pure coincidence that it got published. I practically didn't know what I was getting myself into until the launch." Liar screamed her conscience. Andy was shocked to hear her own voice instead of Miranda's.
"Andrea " Miranda said tiredly.
"No wait. Miranda, I need to know why you think I haven't opened my eyes. I did I swear I did. I know fashion isn't a joke and I never will think of it that way again. I don't get why "
"Andrea" Miranda interrupted. "I don't understand your obsession with this."
"I just need to know." Andy all but screamed and stared at her hands.
"Why?" Miranda's voice was a surprise to Andy. It was sweet and deeper than usual, and so soft. It made her feel warm.
She couldn't look at Miranda as she shrugged, "I just do." God she sounded like an eight year old.
Andy gasped at she felt Miranda's fingers under her jaw guiding her face up so Miranda could look at her. "Why?"
"I can't live with the thought that I disappointed you. Ok. I can't have you thinking I sold you out, that I gave ammunition to those people out there that don't like you. You can't think I betrayed you Miranda, you just can't! And I didn't want to hurt you. That was the last thing I wanted to do. But I kept hearing your voice and I kept thinking about you and dreaming about you. I needed to get you out of my head. That's why I wrote it. I didn't want to hurt you! How could I .I love " Andy stopped as she choked up.
She heard Miranda's surprised gasp and felt like a complete fool. God had she really almost said that? She looked at Miranda who hadn't looked away and didn't seem outraged at Andy's audacity or disgusted or mocking. Miranda looked genuinely happy and a bit amused. Andy had only ever seen that look directed at her once before and she felt the same effect, a sense of pride and power that she could do that to Miranda.
"Miranda " She tried tentatively but didn't know what to say. What was appropriate when you just told Miranda Priestly you loved her? Andy had no clue.
Miranda simply smiled and moved her hand again to Andy's face and caressed the smooth skin of her cheek.
"You finally opened your eyes, Andrea." Miranda said before leaning in and kissing her. Soft. Good god her lips were so soft and warm. Andy sighed against them and felt Miranda smile.
Andy felt lost the moment Miranda pulled back. She watched Miranda get up and move to the kitchen next to the living room. Miranda really had a thing for open space. "What are you doing?" Andy said getting up and moving to the entrance.
"Making lunch." She said her eyes sparkling. Andy couldn't believe it, since when did Miranda cook? Maybe she always had. Maybe the weird thing was that she had just assumed she didn't. "Have you eaten Andrea?"
"Um not really." Andy said watching as Miranda added the last touches to a bowl a pasta liked she had done it a million times before.
"Good, you can eat with us."
Andy mouthed the word 'us' as Miranda moved towards her.
"Yes us " Miranda said before leaning in to kiss her again, " Can you open the wine while I call the girls down?"
"Sure." Miranda kissed her once more before she moved toward the hall.
Andy watched her go, paying a great deal of attention to the sway of Miranda's hips. She moved into the kitchen and started working on the wine. After opening it Andy reached for a couple of glasses and came across the book lying on the counter. She smiled at the funny looking 'Devil in Prada.' She had cursed the book a million times over the past two months. She had prayed, begged, and screamed for the book not to exist.
Andy picked it up and kissed the cover. She had never been happier about writing the stupid thing than in that moment. If it hadn't been for the damn book she wouldn't be in Miranda's house about to have lunch with her and the girls, and ready to steal another kiss from Miranda's lips as soon as she walked back in the kitchen.
Life. Was. Good.
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