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“Dawn of your final day, Six,” Nigel said, perching on the corner of her desk. “How does it feel?”
“Bizarre,” she answered truthfully.
It was still difficult to believe she’d lasted not just one, but two years, especially after coming so close to quitting in Paris. She’d only stayed because she’d thought if Nigel could handle it, she could too, and she was glad she had. She’d finished her year as second assistant and been promoted, first watching Emily thrive in her new role in the art department then seeing Nigel take his rightful place as editor-in-chief of a new menswear publication which was already far more successful than James Holt’s short-lived enterprise had been.
“This place won’t be the same without you,” Nigel said a little tearfully.
“That’s what we said about you, but we haven’t actually managed to get rid of you,” she retorted, and he swatted at her arm. His new offices were a couple of floors down, but he always took the elevator up to the 17th floor and stopped for a chat before walking down the stairs—he claimed it was good cardio, but he wasn’t fooling anybody.
“You know you’ll still see me,” Andy said more seriously. “You won’t even have a chance to miss you.”
“You should make sure Miranda knows the same,” Nigel said meaningfully.
Andy forced a chuckle. “Oh, Miranda won’t—she’ll hardly even notice I’m gone. There’s far too much to do—bigger and better things, and all that.”
“Funny, that’s exactly what she said about you,” Nigel mused.
“What?” Andy blinked in confusion, and he sighed.
“Okay, look, I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but can I give you some advice? For old times’ sake.”
“Sure?” she said, ignoring the inexplicable sense of foreboding.
“You need to put your big girl pants on and tell her how you feel.”
She gave a panicked laugh, glancing over her shoulder automatically even though Miranda wasn’t in yet and the second assistant was out on what, if Andy had done a good job finding her replacement, should be her last coffee run for a while.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about it,” she tried.
“Yes, you do,” he sighed, giving her what she affectionately thought of as his tough-love look. “I say this as a friend to both of you, Andy. You’re looking, but you don’t see.”
She snorted at the cliche. “What does that even mean?”
“It means that you’re so busy trying to make sure she doesn’t see how you look at her, that you don’t see the way she looks at you.” She frowned, not sure she was following. “And vice versa,” he added.
“… you’re not serious,” she said quietly, eyes darting towards the elevator.
“I am. Speaking as someone who knows you both pretty well, your not-so-little crush isn’t one-sided.”
“Then why aren’t you having this conversation with her?” Andy challenged, not quite willing to believe him.
“Because she’d tell me not to interfere,” he replied promptly. “Plus… she’s still, your boss, at least for the next eight hours, and after that, she’ll still be, shall we say, noticeably older than you. She was on the receiving end of far too much unwanted attention when she was your age to risk playing that role. I could give her incontrovertible proof that you’re head over heels—”
“You could not,” she argued.
“—but even if I could and did,” he said, raising his voice a little, “she would still wait for you to make the first move.”
She could kind of see that being true, but it didn’t necessarily mean he was right that Miranda wanted her to do so. She was about to reply when the elevator dinged, and she tensed even though there was no way they’d been overheard. It was just Christine, her ever-efficient protégé right on time with the starbucks, but she still waited until she was out of earshot and spoke in a whisper.
“Are you absolutely sure about this? That she…”
“I am,” he confirmed, leaning close and matching her volume. “No doubt about it.”
Christine took her seat just as the elevator dinged again and Miranda swept out looking as regal as ever. She narrowed her eyes at the way Andy and Nigel sprang apart but didn’t falter as she dropped her coat and bag on Christine’s desk. “No work to do today, Nigel?”
“Nine to five is more than just a hit song, Miranda,” he replied glibly, standing with a tug at his waistcoat.
Andy smiled—their relationship had been tense for a long time after Paris, but Miranda had made a deliberate effort to reconcile with Nigel beyond just paying him back for the lost job, and their dry banter often made her morning. She followed stood up to follow Miranda, notebook in hand, trying not to focus on the fact that it was the last time she would do so.
“See you later, Six,” Nigel called after her, and she nodded back at him. He was almost more excited about her leaving drinks than she was.
Miranda was already at her desk, coffee in hand. “You do have that new girl very well trained,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
“She’s been here for eight months,” Andy reminded her, trying to hide her amusement. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”
Miranda gave her a strange look and Andy fought a grimace. Nigel’s silly words had clearly gotten into her head. The editor seemed on the verge of saying something but hesitated, eventually starting with a reminder to confirm Donatella for lunch. Andy started scribbling, telling herself it was for the best.
By the time 5pm came and went, Andy was exhausted. Emily and Serena had strolled in, taken one look at her face, and left saying they’d meet her at the bar—or more accurately, Serena had given her a sympathetic look whilst Emily had rolled her eyes and dragged her away. Andy had thought she was on top of the handover, but every task she finished seemed to reveal three new jobs she simply couldn’t leave to Christine and her entirely untrained second. The no-nonsense blonde did her best to reassure her, but by the time Andy felt even remotely ready to leave even she was more than a little irate.
To make matters worse, Miranda had been giving her odd looks all day—not necessarily displeased looks, but more pensive preoccupation. She also had said anything in almost an hour and showed no sign of leaving despite there being, as far as Andy knew, no reason to stay. Nigel would probably suggest something silly, maybe that Miranda was waiting for her to say goodbye. She still thought he was wrong, of course, but… it was nice to be able to do it properly.
She stood from her barren desk with a sigh, taking one last look around. Christine nodded encouragingly, probably relieved she was actually, finally leaving. The blonde wouldn’t go anywhere until Miranda did, of course, and would have to duck out of the leaving drinks when the book was ready, but that couldn’t really be helped.
Andy hesitated outside Miranda’s office for a moment before entering. It felt strange to walk in with empty hands, and she placed them behind her back to hide their nervous movement. Miranda’s desk was empty, her chair turned towards the window; had she really just been waiting? She seemed lost in thought again, and Andy cleared her throat quietly.
The editor turned with a start, swinging her chair back around when she realised who it was. “All done then?”
Andy nodded wordlessly.
“Good, good. I suppose that’s that, then.” Miranda glanced away for a moment, then nodded sharply. “On to bigger and better things, Andrea.”
She recoiled slightly in surprise—surely that was just a coincidence. Had Nigel actually been talking to Miranda about her leaving?
The older woman frowned a little at her odd reaction, but didn’t comment on it. “You’ve got leaving drinks planned, yes?”
Andy nodded again, then, taking a deep breath, worked up the courage to ask, “Would you like to come?”
Miranda gave a small but genuine smile. “I have a standing dinner date,” she said, and Andy tried not to look too disappointed. She’d known Nigel was—
“With two teenage girls,” Miranda added, giving her that odd look again.
Of course it was with the twins. “I’ll miss them,” she blurted.
It was true—it had taken a while, but once they’d warmed up to her they’d latched on her pretty firmly, invariably waiting for her on the stairs when she delivered the book. They’d been furious when she’d become the first assistant and said it wasn’t going to be her job anymore, then had promptly terrorized one of the more short-lived seconds into giving them her work mobile number. They’d tried to get her personal number as well when they’d found out she was leaving Runway, but she'd thought that was probably a line too far.
“They’ll miss you as well,” Miranda said with a slight grimace which made Andy wonder what exactly they’d been saying to her. Whatever it was, she looked more regretful than annoyed.
“I’ll—” Andy hesitated, but if there was even a chance Nigel had been right… “I’ll miss you, too.”
Miranda looked… thoughtful again, yes, surprised, but perhaps a tiny bit hopeful? That didn’t mean anything, Andy told herself. It definitely didn’t mean Nigel had been right.
“I’ll miss you too,” Miranda said after a long pause.
Well, maybe they were getting warmer.
“You don’t have to,” she said tentatively. “If you don’t want to.”
Miranda frowned, confused rather than irritated.
“It would be nice to see you again,” Andy clarified, face warm.
Understanding dawned. Miranda glanced swiftly at the open door behind Andy, then looked a little intently at her. “What did you have in mind?”
She floundered for a moment, not having expected such a direct question. “Well—if you won’t come to my leaving party, then, um, I think you owe me a drink?”
Miranda nodded slowly, a small smile playing across her lips. “I was planning to open a particularly fine bottle of scotch tonight—”
“Okay,” Andy said instantly.
“—but I suppose it could wait.”
“Right,” Andy agreed, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“I can’t owe you a drink for missing a party you don’t even attend yourself, Andrea,” Miranda smirked.
“I suppose not,” she conceded, suddenly working very hard to maintain respectable eye contact.
“How’s tomorrow?”
Just long enough for her to work herself up into an anxious mess. “Perfect.”
“Come for dinner, and perhaps my daughters will deign to speak to me again,” Miranda said wryly.
Andy laughed. “Yeah, they’ve been pretty mad at me too.”
“Mmm. If they ask for your personal number again you can give it to them.” That wasn’t much of a secret, then. “If you want to, of course,” Miranda added hastily.
“I could give it to you, and you could give it to them.”
Miranda looked pretty pleased with that idea, but what she actually said was, “We can work out the details tomorrow. 6pm, if that works.”
Andy nodded eagerly, and Miranda shook her head with a disbelieving smile. “Good. Go and have fun, then—you’ve earned it, after two years.”
“Yeah,” Andy sighed, belatedly remembering everything she’d originally planned to say. “Thanks, Miranda. For—the last couple of years, not—you know. I’ve learned a lot from you.”
“You never know, there might be a few more things I could teach you,” she said smoothly, and Andy had to swallow hard. “Now get out of here before I call security on you—and tell Christine she can go as well, I don’t need the book tonight.”
Andy did as she was told, secure in the knowledge that this was the opposite of goodbye. It was time to find Nigel and buy him as many drinks as he wanted.