"Hi Emily."

"Nigel." Emily greeted him. Her eyes darted towards her office.

Everything was as it should be in her modern office. Working, in order like every other day at Runway. Serena was out, fetching a vintage Alaïa.

Emily lowly spoke, seeing that Miranda was still talking on the phone.

Good. She could say this unheard by her boss.

"I think Miranda's broken."

Nigel said nothing, making Emily stammer on. As she saw Miranda was still engaged in her call.

"It's just ever since she left in Paris, Miranda's been…. "well she's been a bit different. Well less. Less herself." Emily mused this.

Nigel only stared at her, seeing that Emily was genuinely worried. "I'm working on it, Em—

Taking a steadying breath, he headed right into Miranda's office.

Miranda was still on the phone. Her body language rigid and her mouth set in a determined line. "Tell him that I will not settle for that …"

Nigel saw his chance. Acting on it.

Taking her phone from her hand, it was Stephen's lawyers. "Sorry. Miranda's not able to continue this call." Placing it down.

"Nigel." Miranda snapped out.

Nigel still held his larger hand over the phone. "Miranda that was for your own good. Now, these are the choices you've made for the next issue?"

Indicating the rack of designer clothes across the room.

"Yes." Miranda barely looked up at him.

Nigel crossed and placed his hand on his pinstripe hip, studying them shrewdly as if in a gallery. He took a few on their hangers off, holding them up, his face inscrutable as he strided purposely over to her windows, opened it and chucked them out.

"Nigel!"

"Miranda. I noticed you at the run-through and I became incredibly concerned—as anyone would at Runway if they saw Miranda Priestly unable to match anything. You matched tweed with magenta and called it elegant."

Miranda sighed out, her eyes dim. "Nigel just leave me alone today."

"No. I won't. I care about you. Yes. I care. Despite Paris. Miranda, you made me and Emily concerned that you can't be you today or the last week and week after and I think I know why."

Nigel pressed his lips together, he knew what was wrong with his boss.

"Oh you think you know why, I am like this? Do tell me." Miranda countered, taking off her glasses, rubbing her nose bridge, her eyes narrowing on her oldest friend.

She needed an Advil. And Nigel to leave her alone.

Nigel simply took her hands in his. "Yes I do know that it is not why but who that is making you like this."

Miranda mumbled softly. "Nigel it's not Stephen." Her lithe digits still held his hand.

"Of course it's not Stephen. It's Andy being gone." Nigel supplied.

Miranda's eyes cooled on his gentle ones that were holding her blue gray irises without fear.

"Her! No. Why would I care if a silly girl like Andréa left?"

"Oh you do care she left. We know you cared." Nigel said this seriously.

Her blue eyes were stormy now. "What she did in Paris to me, was unprofessional. She just walked away on the busiest day for me. She threw her phone in a fountain. I saw her do it."

Nigel listened to her rant.

"My Bobbseys have never behaved so childishly. I hope she is miserable in her new job at that daily publication whatever it's called."

Miranda pressed her lips together tightly, Nigel noticed the folded Mirror newspaper beneath the twin's portrait.

"Andy loves working at The Mirror." Nigel shared this.

"Does she, how good to hear?" Miranda's lip curled.

"She's getting by. Despite giving up who she came to really love and who she really misses."

Miranda scrunched her face. It was the free lunches she no doubt missed. Andrea ate more than most her staff, and it had to be the free water Runway provided.

Andrea often helped herself a little too liberally to refilling her water bottle.

"How would you know she adores her new employment Nigel?"

"I met her for Burmese tea, she is the most literate thirsty date I've ever been out with. She asked me, a few times, how you were." Nigel brushed his thumb across her knuckles. "How you were doing with the separation?"

Seeing for a moment, Miranda's eyes went wider. Then she closed off.

"Why would I care to know this?" Her Chanel clad shoulders tensing, Nigel still held her hands in his.

Sighing out. "You do care. A lot. Miranda do me a big favor, and just tell her."

"Tell her what Nigel?" Miranda pale hands were still in his. He felt it tremor in his.

"Tell her, how you're absolutely crazy about her. How you are in love with her."

"This is ridiculous. Nigel, Andrea means nothing to me." Miranda spoke, shocked disbelief etched in her voice, her face unreadable but her blue eyes lowered.

If she told herself enough times, maybe she'd start to actually believe it. She was not in love with her last assistant. They barely knew each other, Andrea was from Ohio and she left her in Paris like a brat. She lived downtown. With him, the cook. She hated fashion which meant she hated her.

"Nigel, Andrea was just an assistant who I replaced. Quite quickly."

"There's been twelve this week." Nigel knew of, one had worn the wrong nail polish, too neon, one had hair Miranda didn't care for the style of, one tapped the keyboard to hard.

One smile too much, one had a similar build to Andy's and was fired in five minutes and one was from Brooklyn.

The problem.

None of them were Andy.

Nigel stared at her, his friend of more than twenty years. Doubting Miranda could truly replace Andy. "Miranda, Andy misses you. She liked - likes you. Now call her and ask her out. Nicely."

"Ask her out." Miranda murmured this out, waspishly. "Nigel I am not in the habit of feeding my ex-employees."

"Just, go grab a coffee with her instead, or a have sushi date."

Ask Andrea out on a sushi date, was Nigel doing ecstasy?

"No, I'll book a table for two at Shun for you two."

Seeing that Miranda wouldn't, she didn't have the guts," Miranda, guess I'll just have to help you out with this." Getting out his iPhone, he scrolled his contacts, stopping on Andy's name.

Dialing her number.

"Nigel, are you calling . . .don't… you're calling her, don't you dare do this to me." Miranda pleaded out as it was ringing, trying and failing to get it from him, Nigel held it up over her white head, "Nigel, end that call. As you're superior. Hang up." as she went suddenly still as it was answered.

Andy's voice was heard on speaker.

"Hi—Nigel. What's up?"

Nigel held it out to her, Miranda took it. Mouthing silently to him. I hate you.

Leaning in her chair. Andy's smile beamed into the phone, it fell at who greeted her on the line.

"Andrea. I wanted to know if you ever intend to return my townhouse key. Bring it to me, would you. No, not here. At my place. Be there for 8 sharp."

Andy swallowed. "S-sure Miranda. I'll be there. Listen about Paris, I just wanted to say I'm so sorry…"

Miranda hung up, almost pushing the phone at him.

What was she supposed to do now, Andrea was coming to see her at 8, thanks to him.