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HIGH ON LOVE
Miranda has a colonoscopy, and the pain meds make her lips much looser than usual.
Post DWP2.
Miranda was in a mood.
Normally, that would not be a noteworthy development, as she was frequently irritated, exasperated, and dumbfounded by the level of incompetence that seemed to follow her like the plague. But things had been different since their return from Milan and her subsequent promotion. Something inside her had settled, and her moods along with it. The energy in the office mellowed, and people had taken to smiling at her. On days when she felt particularly pleased with herself, she even smiled back.
Today was not one of those days.
She was snappy and churlish with everyone, even Nigel, and she just couldn’t seem to bring herself to stop. Her head pounded and her stomach grumbled, and she simply didn’t have the patience to act nice.
After a long, pointless meeting, she stomped into her office, fell into her chair, and immediately whipped her glasses off to massage her throbbing temples. There was a tentative knock on her door before it eased open, and she didn’t have to look up to know who was there.
“Miranda?” came Andrea’s soft voice.
“What?”
“Are you…are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Because in the meeting, you were…”
“I said I’m fine,” she snapped.
When she looked up and was met with Andrea’s wounded brown eyes, guilt skittered down her spine. This girl and her eyes. They had always disarmed Miranda in a way few other things could. She sighed, her shoulders drooped, and she had the ridiculous instinct to apologize.
She didn’t, of course.
“I’m hungry,” she said quietly.
“Oh!” Andrea’s eyes rounded and her back went straight like she had just come up with a brilliant idea. “You haven’t eaten today? It’s almost 2! Do you want me to get Charlie to…”
“I can’t eat,” Miranda said, cutting off whatever five-minute ramble Andrea was certain to go on if left to her own devices. At the younger woman’s confused expression, Miranda groaned. “I’m on a liquid diet,” she said, spewing “liquid” like she actually meant “acid.”
Andrea’s brow furrowed even deeper. “May I ask why?”
“I have a procedure tomorrow, and I can’t eat anything beforehand.”
“Procedure?” Andrea asked, her face draining of color in such an obvious display of concern that Miranda might have found it charming if she was capable of feeling anything except the emptiness in her stomach. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m having a…” She sighed and rolled her eyes, wondering why she felt the need to divulge any of this to Andrea. “A colonoscopy.”
She braced for some sort of negative reaction. Any sign from Andrea that colonoscopies were for old people. She couldn’t stand the idea of Andrea thinking of her as an old woman.
“Oooh,” Andrea said with a relieved smile. “I have to get one of those in the next couple of years. Do they hurt?”
And just like that, Miranda’s concern disappeared. She almost smiled.
“No. I’ll be under anesthesia.”
“Oh, good. So it’s tomorrow?”
“Mm.”
Andrea appeared to do some mental calculations and frowned. “Wait, isn’t Stuart out of town this weekend?”
“He is.”
“So, are the girls going to come home to be with you?”
“Why would they do that? It’s not surgery, Andrea. It’s a simple outpatient procedure that should take less than two hours. I wouldn’t ask them to come home for something so insignificant.”
Andrea got that determined look on her face that she always got when she was about to be righteously indignant.
“If you’re going under anesthesia, it’s not insignificant. Someone should be there with you.”
“Roy will drive me and pick me up after and I can assure you, he will deliver me safely to the townhouse as he has done for the last several decades.”
“That’s not the same as someone being in the room with you to make sure you’re okay.”
Her “I’m thinking” frown morphed into an “I have a solution” frown, and Miranda knew what was coming before Andrea said it.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” Miranda said immediately.
“Why not?”
“Because I do not need a babysitter.”
“It’s not babysitting,” Andrea objected with a pout. “It’s one friend taking care of another. I don’t like the idea of you being in a recovery room all by yourself.”
The sentiment was sweet, but the word friend hit Miranda’s body in a way she didn’t care for.
“I am not asking you to give up your Saturday morning to sit in a waiting room while I am poked and prodded in my sleep.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
Miranda tried to object, but Andrea was already typing furiously on her phone. Within a few seconds, she said “ah ha” and grinned. She rattled off the name of Miranda’s doctor’s outpatient center, the address, and the time of the appointment.
At Miranda’s irritated expression, she said, “I made Charlie give me access to your personal calendar. Don’t fire him.”
Clearly satisfied with herself, she spun on her five-inch heels with a grace she absolutely did not possess in her 20s, swung the door open with a flourish, and then looked over her shoulder and said, “See you in the morning.”
And, predictably, Andrea was at the doctor’s office, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, at 6:30 on the dot. When Miranda walked through the front door, desperately hungry and miserably un-caffeinated, Andrea hopped up from a seat in the lobby and slid next to her.
“Good morning, Miranda,” she said, way too damn happy.
Miranda growled in response.
This, apparently, did nothing to dissuade Andrea or her chipperness, and she hovered at Miranda’s side as she did the tedious task of checking in and scribbling her signature on every piece of paper the receptionist shoved in front of her.
“We’ll need confirmation that you have a support person with you,” the young woman said, also too awake and happy.
Before Miranda could even speak, Andrea piped up with, “that’s me.” Miranda didn’t have to look at her to know she wore that charming “aw shucks” Ohio smile that was devastatingly effective at getting people to do whatever she wanted.
“Oh,” the receptionist said, and something in her tone made Miranda scowl at her over her glasses. Sure enough, the young woman (and she was young, definitely not over 25) was making googly eyes at Andrea and smiling far too much. “How considerate of you. Are you…”
She looked from Miranda to Andrea and Miranda could already feel her ire rising. If this bimbo said “are you her mother?”, Miranda would not be held responsible for her actions.
“Are you friends?” she asked instead.
“Yep,” Andrea said, and she even bumped Miranda’s shoulder with hers. Miranda turned her scowl on her, which had absolutely no effect because Andrea just kept smiling. And then she leaned in conspiratorially and fake-whispered to the flirty tramp, “she’s a little grumpy.”
“I am not grumpy,” Miranda said.
Grumpily.
Andrea made a face that clearly asked see what I mean? The girl nodded sagely.
“Well, don’t worry, Ms. Priestly. The docs have the good drugs and they’ll take that edge right off.”
Miranda scoffed and almost tossed the clipboard at her stupid face. Andrea must have sensed the impending violence because she took the clipboard and handed it back like a calm, sane, well-fed person might do if they were not about to have a camera shoved up their ass.
“You can go right up to the fifth floor and check in there,” the receptionist said, looking at Andrea the whole time.
Miranda rolled her eyes and stomped off to the elevator, her Features Editor just a step behind. She jabbed the “up” button like it owed her money and briefly wished they were at work so maybe Andrea would at least hesitate about not only getting onto the elevator with her, but standing so damn close.
“She was nice,” Andrea said.
“She was flirting with you.”
The way Andrea gasped and looked at Miranda like she had grown a second head was disgustingly genuine.
“What? No, she wasn’t.”
“You are the most obtuse person I have ever met in my life.”
“Thank you.”
“That was very much an insult.”
“I know, but insults are your love language. So thank you.”
Miranda was about two seconds away from screaming, but then the elevator doors opened and she marched out. The second check-in process was quick, and within a few minutes, she and Andrea were led to a private suite that still looked like a hospital room but thankfully did not smell like one. The standard mobile white bed sat in the center of the room, with monitors and an IV stand next to it. A moderately comfortable-looking chair was next to the bed, and a flat-screen TV hung on the opposite wall.
“Ooh, this is nice,” Andrea said, as she settled into the chair and pulled her laptop out of her bag.
A nurse knocked once and poked his head inside. “Ms. Priestly?” he asked. When she nodded, he handed her a hospital gown still wrapped in the plastic. “Need you to put this on.”
“Must I?”
“Sorry, doctor’s orders.”
She took it (some might say she snatched it), and tossed her bag and coat onto the bed. She breezed past Andrea into the restroom, but once she closed the door behind her, her shoulders slumped. The monstrosity in her hands was exactly why she had not wanted company during this little adventure. Nobody, and certainly not Miranda Priestly, should ever be caught in hospital attire.
Still, she knew this was one thing she wouldn’t be able to glare her way out of, so she took her time undressing and hung her clothes on the door hook. She slid on the paper-thin hospital gown, and when she looked at herself in the mirror, it took everything in her not to audibly groan.
In the harsh bathroom lighting, the person staring back at her looked positively ancient. Creams could only do so much to stop gravity, and her wrinkles were on full display. The white hair that she was normally so proud of only served to age her even more.
And this was exactly why she had not wanted Andrea to join her. Because of all the people in the world to see her in this state, she simply couldn’t bear the thought of Andrea thinking she was old.
“You okay in there?” Andrea called from the other side of the door.
Miranda sighed, ran her fingers through her hair, and straightened herself out. She strutted out of the bathroom like she might have in the halls of Runway, even in her ill-fitting gown and grippy socks. Andrea looked up from her computer and when her eyes scanned Miranda up and down, Miranda mentally prepared herself for the same kind of uncharitable comments running through her own head.
Instead, Andrea smiled and said, “aww you look so cute!”
That stopped Miranda in her tracks.
“I am not now, nor have I ever been, cute,” she said, with every ounce of ice she could muster.
It did not bother Andrea in the slightest.
“Well, you look cute now.”
Miranda supposed that was better than looking like a fossil.
“I do so miss the days you were frightened of me.”
Andrea grinned. “Yeah. Good times.”
Miranda rolled her eyes and started to figure out how she might gracefully climb onto the bed, when she saw that Andrea had hung up her coat and neatly placed the important contents from her bag onto the bed. Her laptop, phone and glasses waited patiently for her, and she looked down so Andrea wouldn’t see the smile creeping onto her face.
She was able to get all of seven minutes worth of work done, before the nurse was in the room to take her blood pressure, stick an IV in her arm, and ask invasive questions. The minute he was finished, a doctor walked in, wearing a warm smile and blue scrubs.
“Ms. Priestly, good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” was her clipped response.
“Not too nervous, I hope.”
“I do not get nervous.”
The doctor’s eyebrows rose, but his smile remained. “No? Not even a little?”
“No.”
With her face still down as she typed away on her computer, Andrea unhelpfully chipped in with, “she is grumpy, though.”
Miranda snapped her head around, ready to rip Andrea a new one for her continued spreading of such slanderous filth, when her stomach growled loudly enough to wake the dead. The hot flush of embarrassment immediately stained her cheeks and neck, but Andrea was not insane enough to comment.
The doctor, however, was.
“Ah, you’re hungry. Yeah, not eating for a whole day would drive anyone crazy.”
She cut her eyes at him and opened her mouth to say something eviscerating, but then he slowly pushed some medicine into her IV and within about five seconds, all her rage evaporated. The invisible weight she carried with her every second of every day was suddenly gone. And in its place was a lightness, a carefree feeling that all was right with the world. Her ramrod straight posture relaxed, and she had the most ridiculous urge to giggle.
“Oh,” she said with a slowly-forming smile that couldn’t be helped.
The doctor grinned. “Right?”
She lay back into the pillows and turned her smile on him.
“This is nice.”
She wasn’t even annoyed when the doctor looked at Andrea, and Andrea smiled, apparently delighted at the turn of events.
“I’ll let you ease into that and we’ll be back to get you soon, okay.” He pointed at Andrea. “Take care of her.”
“She always does,” Miranda said with a contended sigh.
After he left and shut the door, Miranda rolled her head to the side and found Andrea looking at her with undisguised glee.
“I have never seen you look this relaxed.”
“You should have seen me in the ‘80s.”
“What was happening in the ‘80s?”
“An ungodly amount of marijuana.”
The snort that left Andrea’s mouth was both inelegant and adorable.
“Oh my God, what I would give to see Miranda Priestly roll up a fatty.”
“I was quite adept at rolling the most perfect blunts you’ll ever see, thank you.”
Andrea threw her head back in a loud guffaw.
“Of course you were. Because you never do anything halfway, do you?”
“I am afraid not.”
Andrea’s eyes glittered with mischief when she asked, “What would it take to get you to smoke with me?”
Miranda grinned as the image came to mind of Andrea sitting with her on her balcony, smoking and watching the city. A warm tingly feeling hugged her body.
“Probably far less than you think.”
Andrea snickered, and the sound lit something up in Miranda’s chest.
“You have the loveliest laugh, Andrea.”
A little blush spread across Andrea’s cheeks. “Thank you.”
Miranda allowed herself to take Andrea in. To truly look at her. And, God, she was gorgeous. She had been pretty in her 20s. She’d always had excellent bone structure, beautiful eyes, and hair that Miranda just knew was soft and luscious. But now, all grown up and more fully confident in herself and her features, Andrea Sachs was nothing short of stunning.
Andrea’s eyes grew huge and she blushed so hard that she had to look down.
“Thank you,” she muttered quietly, looking a lot more like that nervous twenty-something that had shown up at Runway with horrible clothes and big ideas.
It occurred to Miranda then that she must have expressed her thoughts out loud. She would have immediately shut down before, but at the moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.
“You’re stunning too, you know,” Andrea said quietly.
Sweet, but a lie.
“Perhaps when I was younger.”
“No. Right now.”
The warmth that had started in Miranda’s chest spread out to her arms and legs, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should be embarrassed by how pleased Andrea’s compliment made her.
“You’re so earnest,” she said. “Never play poker.”
Andrea laughed. “Trust me, I won’t.”
As the medicine swirled in her system, the extreme relaxation began to melt into sleepiness. But Miranda fought to keep her eyes open because she wasn’t ready to stop staring at Andrea. She never got to simply look at her like this. Her gazes were always under the guise of judging her outfits, approving or shutting down ideas. Never to just look at Andrea’s face, which she found she quite enjoyed.
Andrea’s blush deepened.
“Oh dear, did I say that out loud too?” Miranda asked.
“Kinda.”
“Perhaps someone should have warned me that they were giving me truth serum. I’m afraid I’ll need my mouth taped shut before I confess all of my thoughts about you.”
She meant it as a joke but Andrea’s big eyes grew even bigger and she looked terrified that might happen.
“Do you want me to wait outside? I can wait outside.”
She stood and fumbled with her computer. Something close to panic rose in Miranda and she said “no.”
Andrea froze.
“I want you to stay here with me.”
Andrea slowly lowered herself to the seat again, but was looking anywhere but at Miranda.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Miranda asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure? I apologize if I am. I can’t seem to control my words at the moment.”
“You’re not making me uncomfortable, Miranda.”
“Then what am I making you?”
Andrea finally looked at her, as she bit her full bottom lip and her blush crept up to her ears. Even in her compromised state, Miranda could put the clues together, and she suddenly felt quite warm all over.
“Oh.”
She didn’t know what else to say, so she offered her hand. Andrea looked at it for a few seconds, then took it, and Miranda was fairly certain that Andrea’s soft hand in hers was one of the most pleasant sensations she’d had in quite some time.
Why didn’t they hold hands all the time?
The smile creeping along Andrea’s lips tipped her off that she had asked that out loud.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she grumbled.
Andrea didn’t tease, though. Instead, she ran her thumb over the back of Miranda’s hand, and that soothing rhythm did nothing to combat the heaviness in Miranda’s eyelids.
“You should rest,” Andrea said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And for once in her life, Miranda did as she was told. She allowed her eyes to close, and she mumbled, “don’t leave me again.”
A whispered, “I won’t,” was the last thing she heard before she gave in to sleep.