Chapter Text
Miranda fluttered her eyes open, her sensitive bluish-grey eyes adjusting to the light emitting from the windows, warming up the room not just in temperature but visually as well. The sight brought a smile to Miranda’s face.
She could feel Andrea’s arms wrapping around the middle of her body tightly, not wanting to let her go. Miranda had never felt this before, the act of being wanted shocked her ever so slightly as she buried herself in Andrea’s embrace. She enjoyed the warmth radiating off of the older woman, perhaps she enjoyed it a little too much.
Andrea was still naked from the events of last night, and though Miranda was still fully clothed she felt more exposed than ever. The idea that she had sex with Andrea was beyond her. The mere thought disguised itself more as a distant desire than her reality, and yet, she didn’t feel shameful. Instead, she wanted to feel Andrea’s warmth pressed up against her wet lips, to taste her sweetness, and to satisfy Andrea’s needs once more.
Miranda lightly grazed Andrea’s cheek with the tips of her fingers, the soft touch tickling the older woman unintentionally, though it hardly disrupted her slumber. Miranda wondered how the woman was such a heavy sleeper.
She could feel herself grow hungrier and hungrier by the second so she reluctantly undid herself from Andrea’s grasp, making her way towards the Editor in Chief's closet. The closet itself looked to be as big as Miranda’s lousy apartment. She meticulously searched through each garment of clothing, admiring the fabric, the designer, and the art that went into each piece. Andrea’s closet was Miranda’s dream materialized.
She continued searching until her fingers landed on something that felt unnatural to be in the space it occupied. It was a polyester cerulean sweater, something that looked like it had come from a shady bag alley in a dumpster somewhere. Miranda had never seen Andrea wear something so hideous, she had wondered why Andrea even bothered to keep it amongst all of her other clothes.
It simply made no sense to Miranda, but the fabric had caught her eye nonetheless. She stripped her clothes off, keeping her undergarments on, before placing the sweater over her body. She was unsure as to whether she hated or loved the way it loosely hung on her, but despite her mixed feelings she decided to keep it on.
Miranda brought the collar of the garment to her nose, inhaling the faint smell of Andrea, which she found would often instantly calm her nerves whenever she smelt it. It was a strange phenomenon but one Miranda grew fond of.
She continued to rummage through Andrea’s closet before finding some simple black pants to pair with the vibrant sweater. It was only then when Miranda finally left the older woman’s closet.
She smiled brightly at the sight of Andrea sleeping peacefully in her bed, her chest lifting up and down ever so slightly with each breath she took. It was a gorgeous display, one that Miranda wanted to see in the foreseeable future.
Miranda made her way to the bed, the one that held Andrea in her most vulnerable state. She laid beside her, their faces mere inches apart.
‘I love you,’ was what rang in Miranda’s head. She had no clue how Andrea was able to say those words as if they didn’t hold such a strong meaning. The want to be by Andrea’s side forever was taking over Miranda’s body and yet she was unsure if she could say those seemingly simple words back to the older woman, the woman she desired to be with so heavily.
She wondered if Andrea meant those words or if she was simply disoriented from their night of intense loving, as well as the overwhelming feeling of drowsiness washing over her. Did Andrea truly and deeply love her?
Miranda had to remind herself of the ongoing divorce Andrea was partaking in, the possibility of her being lonely and looking for companionship in anyone that she laid her eyes upon. Even if that person was Miranda.
She bit her lip at the many thoughts that plagued her mind, it was all too much for Miranda to handle and though she tried to stop them tears began to fall from her eyes. Her lips quivered as her vision began to blur, though she continued to keep her line of sight on Andrea.
“Miranda?” A tired voice reached Miranda’s ears, a voice she oh so loved hearing.
She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, embarrassment flooding her senses. She couldn’t believe she was crying over something as ridiculous as this. They had sex one time and now it was suddenly the end of the world? She needed to get herself together.
“Go back to sleep, Andréa.”
Andrea stared passionately into Miranda’s eyes. “Are you going to leave me?” Disappointment coated Andrea’s words, sending a pang of unwanted sadness through Miranda.
“No.” She shook her head back and forth. “I’m not going to leave you,” she spoke gently.
Andrea smiled brightly. “Hey, where’d you get this?” She pinched the cerulean fabric in between her pointer finger and thumb.
“Your closet, I never knew you owned such horrendous things.”
“And yet you’re wearing it.”
A smile reluctantly appeared on Miranda’s face. “It feels more like you than anything else you have in that massive closet of yours.”
“In your mind I’m a hideous blue sweater?”
“You’re a hideous cerulean jumper, my dear. You’re the Editor in Chief of one of the biggest fashion magazines in the world, and yet you still don’t know your colors? Embarrassing.”
Andrea let out a hearty laugh, her shoulders shaking alongside it. “Y’know, this is the second time we’ve shared a bed, I’m surprised you didn’t grope me this time around.”
Miranda ignored her words for the second half of her sentence, or at least she only commented on the first half, “This technically is not the second time we’ve shared a bed. Need I remind you that Paris Fashion Week is indeed a week long. We slept in the same bed for seven days, you really aren’t the brightest in the bunch…”
“You are such a smartass, Miranda.” She continued to giggle, and as the sound traveled to Miranda she couldn’t help but smile.
“Miriam.” Miranda corrected, “My name, or at least my real name, it’s Miriam.”
Andrea brought her hand to Miranda’s cheek, rubbing small, comforting, circles on it with her thumb. “I know, darling. I know.”
“Are you kidding me, Nigel? Seriously?” Miranda’s voice was ice cold, her nails digging into Nigel’s skin with the same harshness.
“It just slipped out while we were talking, I didn’t mean to tell her!” Nigel defended.
“You’ve been speaking with her behind my back?”
“Me and Andy are allowed to be friends outside of my relationship with you.”
The two were currently stationed in Nigel’s apartment complex. It wasn’t a place she visited often. They would normally meet at a bar or a museum of sorts to speak and mingle. But after hearing Andrea suddenly explain she knows her real name, something she told very few people about, she stormed there immediately.
“Well, that is clearly not the point I am trying to make, now is it? What were you two possibly talking about that could’ve garnered you calling me that in front of her?” She spat out the word ‘that’ as her grip on Nigel’s arm tightened.
“Why are you wearing that disgusting sweater?” He completely broke the tension in the air, calling every piece of attention to land on the one hundred percent polyester cerulean pullover Miranda currently had on.
She had completely forgotten about the sweater she had put on that morning. Well, it wasn’t just any sweater, she supposed. It was Andrea’s sweater, and for some reason that fact made the corner of her lips threaten to twitch up and smile. “That is none of your business.” She raked her piercing eyes over his form.
He sighed, annoyed. “You two are meant for each other, you’re both the devil himself reincarnated,” he muttered under his breath, not exactly meaning for Miranda to hear but he didn’t care if she did.
She loosened her grip on his arm, opting to place her hand by her side instead. “I am leaving.” She turned on her heel and made her way straight to the door.
“Just tell her to keep calling you ‘Miranda,’ she’ll listen to whatever you say anyways.”
“Go fuck yourself, Nigel.”
“Gladly.”
Miranda held her head up as she walked through the streets of New York, one foot in front of the other. Her abrupt exit from Andrea’s penthouse to Nigel’s apartment made the fact that she was starving leave her mind, but now, her hunger was back and eating away at her stomach.
She found herself reaching into the pockets of her pants, pulling out her work phone, and dialing Andrea’s number. Miranda had no clue as to what she was doing or trying to accomplish, but before she could dive into her thoughts further Andrea picked up the phone.
“Hey, Miranda!” She sounded giddy, probably the happiest Miranda has seen her be since she began working at Runway. “I hope you didn’t give Nigel too much trouble.”
“He should be dead in a ditch somewhere but I don’t exactly have the tools for that at the moment.”
Andrea giggled on the other end of the line. That simple noise alone made Miranda smile from ear to ear, she had no idea what had gotten into her. “Where are you right now? I was hoping we could maybe spend some the rest of the day together…” Andrea didn’t sound too confident in her request for the two to hang out, it was endearing to Miranda.
“You sound like a little mouse.”
“Do I?” She let out a nervous laugh.
“Percicely, yes. We can uhm… I'm okay with spending time together.” Andrea must’ve been rubbing off on her, she could feel her confidence slipping away with each and every second that passed. Her face goes red at the thought of the two on a potential date together.
“Great!” Miranda could practically hear the smile plastered on Andrea’s face through how she spoke. “Are you hungry? We could go out to eat.”
“I’m not too hungry,” a lie. “But I suppose we could go out to eat.”
“Alright, just tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Mmn…” Miranda hummed. “How fancy. I get my own little chauffeur.”
“Anything for you, madam Priestly,” Andrea practically sang out the words, bringing out a light giggle from Miranda.
Miranda informed Andrea of where she was, taking station at a little bench nearby as she waited for Andrea to come pick her up. She was curious as to where Andrea would take her. She was extremely rich and had the money to practically go wherever. Miranda hoped she would take her to the steakhouse close to the Elias-Clark offices, Smith & Wollensky, was it?
Miranda looked down at her pale hands that rested gracefully in her lap. Was this a date? She couldn’t exactly tell. Just because the two had sex once doesn’t mean they were anything outside of that, the possibility of Andrea using her to get over her divorce was still there. She let out a deep breath. Andrea was right, she kept running from things she enjoyed, things like this. She wanted this, she really did, and she was determined to keep this thing between them going. Whatever that thing may be.
“Miranda!” She heard someone shout, she didn’t have to turn around to know exactly who it was.
“Good afternoon to you too, Andréa.” Miranda stood up from where she sat, making her way over to Andrea, the two standing on the sidewalk in the middle of foot traffic. The people of New York passed by them without a second thought. It made Miranda feel small.
“Roy parked up the road, but the place I want to go to isn’t too far from here. We can go by foot if you’d like.”
“That’s alright by me.”
When Miranda had walked - or more of ran - to Nigel’s apartment, she did it in heels. More specifically, Andrea’s heels that she had stolen from her closet along with the entire outfit she was wearing. They were an absolute pain to walk in.
Miranda glanced up at Andrea, admiring the sight in front of her before speaking, “You have colossal sized feet.” She continued to walk side by side to the Editor in Chief.
“Wha- Where is this even coming from?!” Andrea’s eyebrows furrowed in extreme confusion, utterly baffled by Miranda’s words.
“Your shoes are insanely uncomfortable, and they hardly fit my feet.”
“You could’ve worn your shoes from yesterday, but no. You left them at my place instead.”
Miranda frowned. None of the clothes she wore was truly hers, they were all borrowed from the Closet or, as of today, Andrea’s closet. She yearned for the day where she had a space that was filled to the brim with designer brands.
“They didn’t go with the outfit,” Miranda stated. Andrea simply laughed at Miranda’s words, she had no clue Miranda was being completely and utterly serious.
Andrea stopped in front of a building Miranda was unfamiliar with. “We’re here,” she smiled, her pearly white teeth being on full display for Miranda’s eyes.
She gave the building a proper look before her facial features completely neutralized. “Where have you taken me?” She sounded dangerous, her tone came off more cold than she would’ve liked.
“It’s a Chinese restaurant, I eat here whenever I feel a little down in the dumps.”
Though Miranda isn’t Editor in Chief of Runway, she still holds herself to a certain standard when it comes to what she eats. She often cooks her own meals because of that.
It made her wonder if Andrea would enjoy a home cooked meal, if she eats with her daughters as a family, if she cooks for them herself or even if she pays a professional chef to cook for them.
“Someone with your paycheck eating at a Chinese restaurant? And not even the luxury kind.” Miranda looked appalled at Andrea’s audacity. She should’ve known what she was getting herself into the day she walked into that interview.
“Hey! Don’t talk down on Chinese food like that. It’s really good, I promise.”
“I believe you,” her sarcasm was as clear as day.
“Just give it a chance. For me?” Andrea raised her shoulders awkwardly, visibly nervous which confused Miranda to a great extent. Miranda should be nervous in the presence of Andrea, not the other way around.
Miranda rolled her eyes before reluctantly saying, “Fine.”
They walked inside of the restaurant, the smell of food immediately hitting Miranda’s nose. The two sat down across from each other, their menus already set out in front of them.
Their lunch proceeded perfectly, with Miranda and Andrea simply enjoying each other’s company. Miranda hates to admit it but she actually quite enjoyed the food, something about it felt familiar and comforting but that could’ve been caused by Andrea’s ability to put her at ease.
They continued to spend their time walking around New York City, shoulder to shoulder for the rest of the day. With no plan for what to do, just the two simply existing in the same space, in the same city, at the same time.
“Why do you allow your employees to call you Andy?” Miranda asked, as she picked lint off of her borrowed sweater.
Andy shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. I’ve been called Andy my whole life, so people calling me Andrea just feels weird and too formal, I guess.”
“I see.”
“But I like your way of saying my name. Andréa. It sounds fancy.” Andrea giggled, the corners of her lips lifting up to show Miranda that smile she loved so dearly.
“‘Fancy,’ huh? You have such a way with words.” Miranda squinted her eyes and shook her head in slight disgust, as she mocked Andrea for her choice of words. “How did you even get this job, I wonder.”
“Excuse you! I’m perfect for this job!” Andrea defended herself, her smile never leaving her face.
“‘I’m perfect for this job,’ she says.” Miranda snorted, her canine that almost resembled a fang peaked out from her mouth. “Tell that to this disgusting jumper I have on at the moment.”
“Hey!” Andrea playfully hit Miranda’s arm. “I have an entire closet full of clothes you could’ve worn! You chose that one just to piss me off.”
Miranda chose not to acknowledge the last part of Andrea’s sentence, mainly because it was true. “And you’re abusive, I should leave this relationship before you get even more violent.” As soon as the words left her mouth she felt a light pang in her chest. Relationship.
What were they even doing right now? Walking around New York like a couple hand in hand, it was stupid. Miranda wanted this more than anything in the world, she knew that, and yet she couldn’t help but doubt their… whatever this was.
“You’re stuck with me forever, babes.” Forever. That simple word had Miranda’s stomach swarming with butterflies, she had never felt this happy before. Andrea made her happy.
“God, what a nightmare,” Miranda replied.
“I’m sorry for the other day, by the way.” Andrea pushed her hair back, her fingers gliding smoothly through her brown hair starting from her hairline.
“Whatever do you mean?” Miranda questioned, apologies from Andrea always baffled her.
“Oh, come on. I was evil to you. I made you run around all day long in heels, and fetch things for me. It was mean and I’m sorry.”
“Running around all day long is a part of the job description, my dear. But alright, if you want to feel all self-righteous about yourself, be my guest.” Miranda folded her arms over the middle of her body.
“Yeah but…” Andrea paused, biting her bottom lip, “I don’t want to be one of those evil bosses that act as if they’re better than everyone else.”
“I believe you’re far beyond that point. I really don’t think you even know what’s going on around you in your own office.” Miranda chuckled lightly, the noise bringing a bittersweet smile to Andrea’s face. “People fear you, darling. Yesterday I finally got to see why. Before then you were just a…” Miranda played with the collar of her pullover, searching for her words. “A little puppy squeaking out your orders to anyone who would listen, turns out you’re a beast when you get fed up with everyone’s - for lack of a better word - bullshit.”
Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Miranda, you’re like a dictionary. You could’ve found a better word to substitute ‘bullshit’ for.”
“And yet I didn’t, so what’s your point?”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “Whatever. I just don’t want people to, I guess, continue to think I’m some evil, sadistic boss.”
“What’s so wrong with that?”
“With what?”
“Having people think you’re an ‘evil, sadistic boss.’ To me, it’s pointless trying to appear nice and laid back all of the time. You will never get anything done with that attitude.”
“Miranda, if people fear me, they’ll never come to me for anything. I need employees that can trust me.” Andrea spoke with her hands, flailing them around in the air like a Wacky Inflatable Tube Man.
She rolled her eyes, not finding any real meaning in Andrea’s gripes. “They’ll trust you even if they fear you.”
“Says the girl who thinks I give her special treatment.”
“Well, clearly it was true. I mean, you treated me like an angel for weeks and then yesterday you treated me terribly and I…” The words got stuck on Miranda’s tongue, she couldn’t admit that she liked being yelled at by Andrea. Or could she?
Andrea teased, “‘You’ what? Come on, don’t get nervous now.” She nudged Miranda’s arm with her elbow, lightly pushing her.
“I quite enjoyed it,” she confessed, a red hue painting her cheeks, ears, and neck. Thankfully, her hair was long enough to cover most of it.
“Miranda Priestly, a masochist?” Andrea raised her voice ever so slightly, appalled by Miranda’s confession. “I would’ve never predicted that,” Andrea couldn’t suppress her laugh.
“I am no masochist,” Miranda stated, feeling the urge to advocate for herself.
“But you like being degraded?” Andrea edged on.
“Oh, shut it. I didn’t like it sexually, it was simply nice to see you stand up for yourself. That’s all.”
“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t sexual at all.” Andrea continued to tease her, much to the younger woman’s dismay.
Miranda chose not to respond, she didn’t feel like feeding Andrea’s delusions. They continued to walk in silence, the need to continue their previous conversation not feeling needed, at least not to Miranda.
“Why do you go by Miranda if your real name is Miriam?” Andrea questioned. She didn’t sound like she was pestering or urging Miranda to answer the question, and yet, Miranda felt her chest tighten in fear.
She could feel herself shutting down at the simple curiosity from Andrea. She wanted to leave her past where it belonged, she didn’t need someone searching for answers to something she wanted so badly to forget.
Miranda didn’t have a clue as to why she told Andrea her real name, at the end of the day, what difference didn’t make other than Andrea feeling entitled to question her.
“That is none of your business.” Miranda snapped, her mood switching from something once so lively to something dangerous. She felt bad for how terribly her words stung Andrea. Miranda felt as if she couldn’t control her tone sometimes.
A concerned look painted Andrea’s face. “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just want to know you more. You’re sort of like a mystery. And besides, you asked me about my name. I just thought I’d return the favor, I guess.”
“I would like to stay a mystery.”
Quietness took over the noise once again, the only thing filling it being the vast city of New York surrounding them. This silence was different, entirely different from before. It was stuffy, heavy, and uncomfortable, almost as if the two couldn’t breathe in each other’s space anymore. Miranda had no intention of breaking the silence, she never did.
“Y’know,” Andrea began, “me and Emily used to date.” She chuckled to herself, trying to lighten the mood.
Miranda felt as if her world was crumbling around her from those words alone. She tried her best to focus on the word ‘used,’ it wasn’t like their relationship was ongoing, Andrea wasn’t married to the red head for crying out loud. But she couldn’t bring herself to do so. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on that word, it was nearly impossible.
She wondered what she was in Andrea’s eyes. Was she just some stupid fling like Emily must’ve been?
Andrea looked back at Miranda whose eyes were glued to the concrete floor under them. “It was pretty silly looking back at it, but I think that relationship really helped us become the friends that we are now, y’know?”
“Why not just go back to her?” There was a sort of dullness to Miranda’s words.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m clearly wasting your time here,” Miranda stated matter-of-factly. “If you want to suck faces with Emily you might as well go and do that. It is extremely obvious that I am of no use to you in the long run, I’m just some ridiculous discardable hookup.”
“What? No, Miranda, I don’t see you in that way at all! I was just-”
“I don’t exactly care what you meant, Andréa.” Miranda tilted her head to the sky, seeing how the afternoon sky was slowly but surely disappearing, the night sky replacing it. “Besides, it’s starting to get dark out. I should head home.”
Andrea scoffed which surprised Miranda greatly. “Genuinely what is with you, Miranda?! You always do this, you always leave and twist up my words!”
“I am not twisting up anything, your intentions are as clear as day.”
“‘As clear as day,’” Andrea said back to her. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”
“Keep your voice down,” Miranda scolded.
“Oh, I need to keep my voice down?! Fuck you, Miranda. I don’t even know why I try to get close to you, because you’re just going to push me out anyways with some bullshit excuse!”
Miranda tilted her head to the side slightly, taking in every word that Andrea was saying. “Then don’t get close to me.” Miranda turned around, walking in the opposite direction as Andrea.
“Are you going to leave me?” Andrea called out for the honey blonde - turning orange - haired girl, pleading for Miranda to stay as her voice began to break, tears begging to fall from the brunette's eyes.
Miranda chose not to respond to her as she continued her journey. She knew Andrea wouldn’t even bother following her, why would she? Miranda was just a little blip in Andrea’s story and that was all. She was nothing to Andrea, and Andrea was nothing to her. At least, Andrea should be nothing to her, but that wasn’t the truth, Andrea was everything to Miranda and Miranda knew it.
She took out her phone, dialling Nigel’s number and holding the phone up to her ear. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, what’s up, doll? Are you done being mad at me?” He always spoke in this lighthearted tone when it came to Miranda, it somehow brought the faintest smile on her face.
“Would you like to go out for drinks?”
“Wow, so, the two of you kissed back in Paris?” Nigel relayed the information back to Miranda, doing his best to act as if he was hearing this information for the first time that week.
“Yes, we did, keep up Nigel. Seriously.” She found herself rolling her eyes, though she had no idea he was already caught up.
“And all you did was kiss?” He pressed.
Miranda tapped gently at her glass of whisky with her white french tip nails, the warm colored liquid swirling lightly with each dink. “I…” She stopped herself, swallowing harshly. “I suppose we didn’t just kiss. At least not when we got back to New York.”
“You’re telling me the two of you had sex?” Nigel questioned. “You had sex with Andy Sachs, the Editor in Chief of Runway magazine,” he clarified once again.
“Yes, Nigel. We had sex. Are you going deaf? I mean, how much clearer can I make things?” She shook her head exasperatedly. “But I don’t believe she thinks of me seriously. I feel as if I’m just a fling for her, a quick hookup, to take her mind off of her divorce.” Miranda was being uncharacteristically truthful about her feelings, and she knew it.
Nigel wore a bittersweet smile on his face, hoping to comfort his dear friend through these trials. “Has she mentioned her divorce to you at all?” He questioned, bringing his glass of whisky to his lips.
“Not necessarily, no,” she answered truthfully.
Nigel’s eyebrows caved in together, creating a crease between them. “I’m confused.” He stated plainly. “So, you’re saying she’s using you as a distraction from her divorce, but you don’t have any proof of that even happening?”
“Correct.”
“Miranda, you cannot be serious right now.”
She looked away from him, tears burning her eyes. She bit her lip in hopes they would stop quivering. “I am being quite serious, Nigel.” Her words were shaky and she couldn’t help but curse at herself for it. “When have I ever been the type to joke around?” It was a rhetorical question. The stinging in her eyes worsened as she began to stand up from her chair.
“Miranda, that’s not what I meant-”
Miranda cut him off before he could explain himself, something she found herself doing often, “I’m sure of it.” She rummaged through her pocket, taking out her wallet and placing a few dollar bills on the counter next to him. “I am…” She choked on her words, “I am going home, good night Nigel.”
Nigel knew better than anyone not to argue with Miranda when in this state. “Alright, text me when you get home. Good night, doll.” He waved Miranda goodbye as she walked out of the bar, leaving him to sit there alone.
She stumbled into her apartment, kicking off her - well, Andrea’s heels. She collapsed to the floor, sitting on her knees while propping herself up on her bed with her arms. She simply couldn’t take anymore of the hell today has become for her, her tears streaming down dramatically across her face.
Miranda could feel the walls caving in on her as she tried to make sense of all of the many thoughts swirling around in her mind. She desperately craved closure, like a starved lion hungry for food. Miranda just couldn’t make sense of her feelings towards Andrea. She loved her, however, she felt as if she couldn’t have her. As if Andrea wasn’t meant to be Miranda’s. She felt worthless in the eyes of Andrea.
Her breathing became uneven as the tears continued to fall from her eyes, her wailing becoming louder and louder the more and more she searched for something that wasn’t there, that something being Andrea’s touch.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried like this, she felt as if she were throwing a tantrum, and perhaps she was. Crying over a woman she couldn’t have. One of a much higher status and social ranking than her. Andrea was everything Miranda wanted to be, and Miranda was simply nothing. A piece of gum at the bottom of someone’s shoe.
Her pale face was stained with her tears and snot, a revolting sight in her eyes. She brought the collar of Andrea’s cerulean sweater to her nose, breathing in the woman’s vanilla scent. She wanted to hate Andrea, she really did but a part of her wouldn’t let herself take this sweater off, afraid she would lose a piece of herself with it.
Miranda climbed into bed, she instantly noticed how uncomfortable it was compared to the brunette's bed. And as she he hugged herself tightly, she greatly wished it were Andrea’s arms folded around her instead.