Andréa was two steps behind Miranda the entire way up to the third floor. When they made it to the library, Andréa stopped in the doorway, jaw slightly slack. Miranda took the coffee from her and made her way into the room. Her library wasn't very big, not compared to some others she had seen, but it was impressive enough to stop Andréa in her tracks. Miranda sipped the coffee before placing it on the table. She took a seat on the left side of couch in the center of room, her back leaning against the armrest and her feet pulled up underneath her. With the manuscript in her lap, her eyes watched Andréa over the back of the couch as she moved about the room.

On the wall opposite the doorway there were no bookshelves, instead, in the middle of the wall was a huge gas fireplace, its mantelpiece covered in expensively framed family photos. Andréa's eyes appeared to zoom in, as if she could clearly see the images of Caroline and Cassidy, as if the black and white photos of Miranda with her mother and father, were easy to spot and make out. Sunlight streamed into the room from the two windows on either side of the fireplace and bathed the couch, a light silver and grey two-seater, that Miranda was sitting on. The dark wood of the coffee table in front of her, and the end tables (one on each side of her, their lamps turned off) lightly reflected the sun's light.

Next to each end table sat an arm chair, in the same style and color as the couch. They faced each, with the table between. On the way up to the library Miranda had thought about sitting in one of those chairs, but wanted to test Andréa's resolve. She seemed so sure of herself in the den and Miranda wanted to know if it was lasting. If the younger woman chose to sit next to her, within reach, this relationship might just stand a chance. But if Andréa was going to operate as if Miranda were the Dragon Lady and revert to having a physical distance between them, well, Miranda would have to put a stop to that as soon as possible.

As Andréa's eyes moved to the wall to the right of the doorway Miranda couldn't help but smile a bit. The three remaining walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all the same dark wood of the tables in the room. The doorway was the only book-free space on that wall. Andréa looked about wide-eyed for a few moments before she actually stepped into the room. She started out on the right side, and when she finally noticed the shelves beside and above the doorway, Miranda heard her whisper, "Why am I not surprised?" Then chuckle. Miranda barely heard the comment, her eyes and mind focused on Andréa's long fingers and the way the very tips touched the spine of each book on the shelf level with her shoulder. The younger woman wasn't looking at the specific titles, she was breathing in the library as a whole.

"Have you read all of these?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Andréa," Miranda said the name a little slower than usual, relishing in the fact that she could say it to its owner, "when would I have the time?"

"Right."

"However, I have read a good deal of them. This wall here," she pointed to the left of the doorway, "is made up of reference materials, for both me and girls." She watched as Andréa's face lit with understanding—the trip to the library was a gift. Andréa then moved to that section and read a few of the titles, her fingers trailing behind her eyes.

"The other side of that wall is also reference, however, it focuses on fashion." Andréa shifted and Miranda waited while she took in some of those titles. Andréa noticed the three shelves made up of almost fifty years of Runway. She kept them as a reminder of what Runway used to be, what it was now, and what could (and would) continue to be. She blushed as she remembered the way Stephen had laughed when he saw them. He did not understand their purpose—with as much as Miranda gave to Runway, he couldn't see the need to have them at home. And when he laughed, Miranda felt no desire to explain it. If Andréa asked, she would. But she didn't ask. She turned to face Miranda, to acknowledge the magazines' presence. Miranda saw nothing but understanding, and it was like balm to her being.

"Over here," Miranda waved to the left after the moment of stillness, "are books for Caroline and Cassidy. Some are books that they have expressed an interest in and have read. Some can be found on summer reading lists." Again, Andréa moved the to section Miranda was talking about and searched the titles with both her eyes and fingers. Miranda found herself having difficulty moving her eyes away from those fingertips. "Quite a few of the books haven't been read yet, they are suggested reading before entering high school and college."

Andréa nodded her understanding before moving back to where she started. "And these," she waved towards the right-hand side, "and these are your books."

"Yes. The bottom shelves are the books I have completed while the upper shelves hold my to-read list."

"Wow." It was spoken so quietly Miranda almost missed it—but she hadn't, and she heard the awe behind it.

Andréa started to peruse the shelves in earnest. Miranda began reading, ignoring the ease at which Andréa entered her space, and attempted to ignore the beginnings of a headache. She had been reading all morning without her glasses, and while it was not difficult, it did prove tiresome on her eyes.

A comfortable silence filled the room until Miranda felt her cushion move as Andréa sat down. Miranda looked up, Andréa had sat facing forward, her left leg underneath her, and held up the book so Miranda could see it: Oranges are not the Only Fruit. It was from one of the higher shelves.

"I read a review for this a few weeks ago. It's supposed to be very good."

Miranda nodded at the explanation and turned back to her own reading while Andréa relaxed into her seat. Miranda read another four pages before the feeling of eyes on her became a complete distraction. Usually, staring made Miranda rather uncomfortable, but she had long since grown accustomed to Andréa's unassuming and curious stare, so she no longer bothered to question her own acceptance of it. When she looked up she found herself looking directly into dark, reflective brown eyes and she tilted her head, ever so slightly, in question.

"Um," Andréa was running her thumb gently over the page's edges, "where are your glasses?"

Miranda's face showed her annoyance, "In the study I assume. Why?"

"Just wondering," she replied quickly.

Miranda went back to reading and a few seconds passed. "Um, I'm going to get a water. Would you like one?"

"No, thank you. There is Pellegrino in the bottom right-hand drawer."

"Thanks." Andréa sat the book down in front of her as she got up. Miranda's eyes followed her out of the room before returning to Harry's adventures. She was so engrossed in the tale that she hadn't heard Andréa's return. However, she did feel the couch cushion dip a bit at the added weight. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Andréa place something on the table, directly next to the long forgotten cup of coffee before reaching for a coaster. Miranda waited until Andréa's movement stopped before shifting her eyes to the new object. When her gaze fell upon her glasses, she became annoyed. She was not so old that she could not function without these assistive lenses, and if she had wanted them she could have retrieved them herself. Even if her eyes were going bad her legs were perfectly fine. Miranda's head jerked up, tongue ready to lash out, but seeing Andréa's eyes, filled with nothing but gentle concern and caring, Miranda's mouth snapped shut.

"You're getting a headache." Andréa's voice was genuine and matched the look on her face. Miranda's lips were thinner than usual and she gave Andréa a mild glare as she put on her glasses. Her reward was that smile that made her glad she was sitting.

Again, a comfortable silence fell over them as they read. Miranda made it another five pages before she felt the air in the room shift and the movement next to her. A paragraph later she knew Andréa was once again looking at her. This time when she looked up, Andréa was sitting in a fashion similar to Miranda's and facing her.

"What is it this time?" Miranda's voice was flat but laced with curiosity and mild impatience.

"Sorry I keep interrupting."

Miranda simply waved her free hand—it was obvious there was something on Andréa's mind.

"So." Andréa looked down at the book in her hand, gently turning it over in her palm. "I get half-days at The Mirror, Thursdays." She flipped the book again. "Since I'm going to start doing a lot more work that—" she flipped it over again "—doesn't require me to be in the office."

Miranda reached over and placed her hand atop Andréa's, forcing the fidgeting to come to an end. She took a second to enjoy the warm softness before lifting her eyes and pinning Andréa with a look that very much said get-on-with-it.

"Right. So I was wondering if it would be okay for me to spend more time with Caroline and Cassidy."

Miranda's only response was the tiniest widening of her eyes.

"Last week was just a reminder of how much I missed you, all of you." Andréa flipped her hand under Miranda's and wrapped her fingers around it. "If you aren't opposed to it, I would like to spend more time with them, as well. I mean I would never attempt to encroach on your or Greg's time with them. I just thought that—"

Miranda raised her free hand in a request for silence that Andréa immediately granted. She knew Andréa enjoyed spending time with her daughters, but she wasn't prepared for such a request. Not first thing. She had thought Andrea would start with spending more time with her, making sure this was what she wanted—that Miranda was what she wanted—before bringing her children into it.

It didn't help that Caroline and Cassidy had such shaky relationships with the other men in Miranda's life. Greg had only fought for custody of their daughters as a way to get back at Miranda for her so-called abandonment. Even now, he chose to see them one, maybe two, weekends a month, trading off every other holiday. After their divorce Miranda dated a few men, half of which fled the moment she mentioned her children. Stephen only spent time with Caroline and Cassidy at the beginning of their relationship, trying to prove he could be a good father. Their bonding time had decreased so much that by second year of their marriage, Miranda knew the little time he did spend with them was a means of pacifying her. Not that the girls minded—they never did warm up to Stephen. Not in the way they warmed up to Andréa.

She sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Why?"

An effortless smile appeared on Andréa's face, "Well that's easy. I like them. They're smart and funny and easy to be around." She leaned forward a tad and whispered, "Just like their mother," with a wink, ignoring Miranda's eye roll and leaning back. "Miranda, I'm serious, I want to be a part of your life and theirs."

"What if this," Miranda was talking to their joined hands, making a vague gesture between them with her free one, "what if it doesn't…" She couldn't bring herself to actually say it.

"Would you deny me friendship?"

"What makes you think you'd still want to be friends?"

"What makes you think I wouldn't?"

"Experience."

"But you have never experienced anything like me," she said. Miranda finally looked up and saw the cocky smile gracing Andréa's features.

"Well, then, shall we alert the press?"

Andréa rolled her eyes. " I want to get to know them. I want them to know me."

For a few long seconds Miranda searched Andréa's face, for what, she wasn't entirely sure. "Because Caroline and Cassidy have requested my permission to 'hang out' with you as well, I have no reason to oppose." The 'yet' was heard.

Andréa's smile lit up the room. "Thank you, Miranda. I know this is not easy for you," she squeezed the hand still in her own, "and you will not regret it."

"You are certainly sure of yourself."

"I am. What do their Thursdays look like?"

"As of right now, that is one of their free days. So, usually homework and friends."

Andréa nodded. "So, does that mean I can come over every Thursday they are free?"

"You're asking for an awful lot, aren't you?" Miranda's voice had a stony playfulness to it.

"I only dare ask for the best." She winked and her smile grew in relation to the barely-there pink gracing Miranda's cheeks.

"So I see."

"So, this Thursday?"

Miranda nodded.

"Cool. We'll stay in this week."

"This week?"

"Yeah. I want to talk to them and find out what kind of stuff they like doing before I start making plans for us." Miranda shot her a look. "Don't worry, I will make sure you are aware of what, when, and how. I won't allow anything to happen to them."

"Who said I was worried?" Miranda huffed. She knew Andréa would not allow any harm to come to Caroline and Cassidy. There was no need to worry, not last week, not now, not later. "You have plans for my children, but I have heard nothing of your plans with me."

Andréa blushed a deep red and Miranda felt herself respond, immediately pulled into Andréa's train of thought, but this was not the time. She pushed that aside, cleared her throat and continued. "I have also gone over my schedule." The morning after the beach dream with her mother, Miranda ran a fine-toothed comb over her schedule, looking for any constant opening that could be set aside for Andréa. They would need the time to get to know one other, to learn how to communicate, and to balance out their interactions. Her eyes fluttered to the coffee cup and she couldn't help but think the latter would be harder than the former. "How long are your lunch breaks?"

"An hour." Her face was colored with slight confusion.

"Good. I propose we meet for lunch on Friday."

"Friday when?"

"Every Friday." Andréa's face was now a mix of excitement, confusion, and hope. "As you seem to understand, getting to know one another is important."

"Well, I figured we'd go on dates, like out to dinner, you know, when your schedule allowed."

"Date night will be on Tuesdays, if that amicable." She didn't wait for a response. "It's the only evening Kara is free to stay with the girls." She leaned forward some and smirked when Andréa subconsciously followed.

Miranda saw both the joy and understanding in Andréa's eyes and she smiled. She placed her other hand on the brunette's cheek, patting it once before letting it rest, "I intend to follow through on this as much as you do. Granted, I did not know when you were going to return—" Andréa started to speak so Miranda slid her thumb over her mouth, stopping her, "—so this was all speculation. I need only to hear the word to make it a reality." She closed even more distance between them, and again, Andréa followed.

As Miranda moved her thumb from Andréa's mouth a new smile formed (this one making Miranda feel as if her heart was swelling in her chest). Miranda inhaled deeply and waited, this would be the last time she asked. There would be no looking back.

"Yes."

That was all Miranda needed to know and all Andréa could say before Miranda was kissing her. It was slow and soft, and when Andréa parted her lips their tongues touched in promise—promises Miranda intended to keep. When the kiss ended, Andréa's knee-weakening smile had returned. Again, Miranda was glad she was sitting. "May I finish my book now?"

Andréa released her hand and answered with a laugh. "Yes, of course."

Andréa watched as Miranda leaned back and reopened the manuscript. And Miranda felt those eyes on her for a page and a half before Andréa returned to her own book.

*\(^o^)/*.

It's been more than four years. I think it's safe to say I will not be adding to this story-so I've changed the status to complete.

Thanks for reading and (for those of who you do) reviewing—I read them all.