Miranda finished her week in Paris alone, or…well without Andrea. There had been no reason for Andrea to stay past the auto show and quite frankly Auto Universe wasn't going to pay for her to stay in Paris longer than was required. Their budget was nowhere near as generous as Runway's and that difference had been highlighted by the accommodations Andrea had received during her stay compared to that of the Runway staff. Andrea had been forced to share a room with the photographer that had accompanied her and was given a small budget for incidentals. Of course, Andrea had faired much better than her colleague since Miranda had involved Andrea as much as possible in her own schedule. That meant better food and on one particularly late night, a better bed.

Still, despite the distractions Andrea had provided and the work that filled her day, Miranda could not completely cast aside the fact that when she returned to New York she would be facing a failed marriage and two very disappointed girls. No matter how Paris fashion week ended for her professionally, it would always be tainted with her personal loss. Though, it would also be filled with the unexpected affirmation of the odd connection she had to Andrea Sachs.

Normally, leaving Paris gave Miranda a sense of melancholy. She always felt like she was leaving the only place in the world where she felt like she was truly at home. But, like so many other things that had begun to change in her life, this year she left Paris content with what she had accomplished, but glad to be returning to New York, despite the torrential storm that was waiting to be unleashed upon her life when she got there. She missed her girls. She missed the familiarity of her home, and unexpectedly, she missed Andrea.

She missed the dinners they would share in which Andrea exposed her to unseemly concoctions that passed for affordable meals. She missed their companionable silences that fell between them when they met up for drinks or coffee. She missed the flutter of anticipation that came every time she stepped into one of the elevators at Elias-Clarke and wondered if by chance Andrea would mindlessly step onto the lift with her.

It had been a long time since Miranda had shared such casual intimacy with anyone, and now that she had rediscovered it, she wondered how she had not gone insane without it. She had never been a woman prone to isolation, but somehow it had happened. She had managed to become so distanced from the people around her that she began to genuinely wonder how she had ever managed to marry Stephen at all. She could not remember what had drawn them together, could not remember why she had agreed to marry him or why he had agreed to marry her. All of those memories that should have been precious and unforgettable had somehow begun to blur and fade into their present reality of discord, strenuous communication, and the inability to stay in each other's company for extended periods of time.

She hadn't heard from Stephen since he had called her to let her know about their impending divorce, but she assumed that he had already moved out. He probably hadn't even taken the time out to tell the girls goodbye since they had been staying with their grandmother. Miranda hadn't wanted to break the news to them over the phone, so she had that wonderful conversation to look forward to when she finally saw them again. She hadn't believed that Caroline and Cassidy were too terribly close to Stephen, but they had certainly grown accustomed to him being a daily fixture in their routines. It wasn't good for them to have people torn out of their lives so unfairly. It wasn't their fault their stepfather now hated her. The girls were not part of her and Stephen's irreconcilable differences, but neither were they a reason for them to stay together. After all, they were not his daughters and while Miranda was sure he cared for them, she doubted he truly loved them.

When her car finally pulled up to her home, she looked upon the empty house with a sense of relief. She would get a chance to spend the night alone before the girls came home and she was forced to explain everything that had happened while she was away. She let Roy carry her bags inside, but did nothing further with them. She felt no desire to unpack and felt very little desire to do anything else that involved Runway. So, she didn't.

Instead, she walked through her home trying to absorb what it felt like without Stephen's presence. All of his things were gone, including the desk she had bought him as a Christmas present two years ago. The house was emptier, but for some reason, it didn't feel that way. It felt comfortable again, and a small part of her was thankful that Stephen had taken so many things that they had acquired together throughout their short marriage. She supposed that she could have been upset by him taking some things that weren't rightfully his, but she couldn't bring herself to really care. She guessed that Stephen might have taken so much just so that he could act out a childish method of revenge, but if upsetting her had been his goal then he failed in achieving it.

If he wanted to take furniture that could easily be replaced, she wouldn't argue with him. It was all he could walk away with since she had been sure to have him sign a prenuptial agreement. He couldn't touch any of her finances, couldn't even touch the house. All he could do was steal her furniture.

Miranda stayed staring into what had been Stephen's office until she remembered she had invited Andrea over for dinner. They had talked right before her flight had left Paris and Andrea had been talking frantically about quitting her job over some insane thing her editor had said or done. At the time, Miranda really didn't have the time to talk Andrea through the personal crisis and had mindlessly suggested they meet up for dinner upon her return. Andrea had agreed and now Miranda was faced with having to come up with a meal.

Miranda walked into her kitchen, turned on the Bose Acoustic Wave® music system she kept there for when she felt like preparing her own meals, and then began pulling things out of her refrigerator. She had told Emily to make sure it was stocked before she returned home, and as usual, Emily hadn't forgotten. Miranda was starting to think that it was, perhaps, coming time she promote her first assistant. Despite her physical limitation, Emily had done a good job in Paris and Miranda believed that sort of dedication deserved to be rewarded.

The doorbell rang just as Miranda had begun to cut up the vegetables. She picked up a towel and then walked to the door, opening it without hesitation. "You look pathetic," she said as she took in Andrea's makeup-less face, unkempt hair, and torn jeans.

"It's Sunday," Andrea said as if that simple statement explained her appearance.

"I am aware of that." Miranda stepped aside to let Andrea in.

Andrea stepped inside, her eyes going wide as she looked around. "You know, Miranda," she said as she stepped further into the living space, "for some reason, I pictured you'd have more furniture."

Miranda closed the door. "I did, but it seems to have decided to walk out with Stephen."

"Oh." Andrea nodded her understanding. "Nate didn't take anything but cookware and his clothes when he moved out."

"Well," Miranda began walking back towards the kitchen, "I'm not even sure Stephen ever bothered to learn where the kitchen was."

Andrea followed her, her eyes still taking in Miranda's home. It was the first time she had ever seen it. Miranda had never wanted to invite her over while Stephen was there. She didn't think it would have been fair to ask Andrea to spend time with someone she herself had not wanted to spend any time with.

When they finally walked into the kitchen, Miranda moved back to cutting vegetables and Andrea leaned against the counter seemingly content to watch Miranda's preparations for the meal they would consume.

"So, are you going to tell me why you were so upset earlier?" Miranda eventually asked over the soft sound of Billie Holliday's voice singing a rendition of Don't Explain.

"I quit my job," Andrea's eyes stayed focused on the countertop.

"I gathered that much." Miranda stopped her chopping. "What I don't know is why?"

Andrea reached out, picked up a piece of carrot, and then quickly popped it into her mouth. "It's stupid," she mumbled.

"Ah." Miranda laid down the knife. "So, you were protecting my virtue." She turned away and checked on the items she had cooking on the stove.

Andrea choked on her carrot. "What," she cleared her throat. "What makes you say that?"

Miranda turned back to Andrea. "Well, I could say that I'm psychic or some nonsense." She brushed her hair away from her face. "But I know what happened in Paris has been circulating the rumor mills."

"It's so…" Andrea released a frustrated sight. "Stupid. What happened has nothing to do with Auto Universe, but they still talk about you as if you're some," she waved her hands around obviously trying to grasp hold onto some word that wouldn't be too offensive but also wouldn't underplay the seriousness of their name-calling.

"Devil," Miranda filled in before Andrea had a chance to.

Andrea's hands dropped. "Yeah. I just, couldn't stay silent anymore, and when I said something about it Ken said something completely inappropriate about our time in Paris, and I quit."

Miranda stilled her movements. "What did he say about Paris?"

Andrea shrugged. "I guess he was told about me hanging out with you in Paris, because he said something about him not paying me to whore around at another publication." She ran her hand across her forehead. "I worked really hard in Paris, and for him to just push all that aside because I spent some time with you?" She shook her head, her words dying off in her obvious annoyance.

"Do you want…?" Miranda halted her words, thinking it best she not offer to intervene. It would have been easy for her to get Ken removed from his position and Andrea into a better one, but she refused to take action where none had been requested of her. If Andrea wanted her help, then she would have asked for it.

"I would love for you to go kick his ass," Andrea said, apparently not needing Miranda to finish speaking in order to know what was going to be asked. "But I can't use you like that. There's no reason for you to come in and save me all the time."

Miranda rolled her eyes, slightly disconcerted that Andrea had been able to read her intent so well. "I've never come in to save you."

"Exactly," Andrea quickly agreed. "And I don't want you to. Besides, I've already got an interview lined up at the New York Mirror. I'll finally get a chance to write about something other than cars. It's time I get back to what I really want to do with my life."

"How did you get an interview so quickly?" Miranda asked, knowing of the difficulties Andrea had gone through to just get an interview at Auto Universe.

"Well," Andrea drew out the word, "it might have helped that I put you down as a personal reference."

"What?" Andrea asked as Miranda began laughing. "Just because I don't want you firing the entire Auto Universe staff, doesn't mean I'm above using your name to get my foot into someone else's door." She shrugged. "Besides, I put Lily down as a personal reference as well. So, for all we know, it could have been her name that tipped the scale in my favor."

"Oh I'm sure it was," Miranda sarcastically replied as she resumed cooking. "When's your interview?"

Andrea reached out to pick up another carrot piece. "Tuesday." She tentatively nibbled on the edges of the carrot. "I, um, also called Nate."

Miranda didn't take her attention away from the stove. "Hmm."

"I feel like I needed to talk to him." Andrea dropped the carrot away from her mouth. "I feel like I should apologize for how everything turned out."

Miranda concentrated on the sauce she was stirring, choosing to remain silent since she felt Andrea owed Nate nothing. He had made his choices just like Andrea had. He had pursued his own self interests and condemned Andrea when she chose to do the same. But, Miranda realized that Andrea was a sensitive woman who would apologize just because she felt badly about their breakup. She would try to explain things to Nate, and make peace where she could. Miranda respected that part of Andrea, and even at times envied it.

"You don't think I should meet up with him," Andrea knowingly commented.

"And what makes you think that?" Miranda's gaze met Andrea's. "I don't recall saying that."

Andrea pushed herself away from the counter. "You're doing that lip," she pointed at her own lips, "thing."

"Make yourself useful and set the table." She deflected Andrea's insinuation, not wanting to delve into her own acts of pettiness.

Andrea softly chuckled, but started rummaging through the cabinets in search of dinnerware. Miranda watched her for a moment trying to figure out just when exactly Andrea had decoded all of her mannerisms. And more, she wondered when she had decoded Andrea's. She tried to recall when exactly their interactions had become so casual, tried to remember when exactly she had felt relaxed enough to act like an actual flawed human being instead of like the Devil that wears Prada. The more she tried to come up with the precise moment she had allowed Andrea into her life, the more she realized that there was no special, dramatic moment. Andrea had simply walked onto an elevator and Miranda had simply let her.

"Are you still thinking about world hunger?" Andrea asked from directly behind Miranda, causing her to jump back unexpectedly into Andrea's body. Unprepared to hold the extra weight, Andrea wrapped her arms around Miranda's waist and then let them fall to the floor.

Instinctually, Miranda closed her eyes doing her best to brace herself for the fall. After impact, she could hear Etta James belting out At Last from the Bose sound system, could feel Andrea's body beneath hers, could feel Andrea's heart pounding wildly, and couldn't help but take comfort in the arms that were still wrapped around her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked down into Andrea's worried gaze.

"Are you okay?" Andrea whispered.

"I don't think so," Miranda admitted, all too aware of the tension that was building from within her body, recognizing it for the lust that it was. She began to break away from the body lying beneath hers, but as Andrea had done before, she forced Miranda to stay and face the moment they were in. She refused to let Miranda walk away.

"Well," Andrea smirked, "I don't think I am either."

"And why do you think that is?" Miranda could guess, and she knew that her guess would be right but she didn't want to say anything out loud. She still wanted to have the option of safely pulling away with the chance of what was being unspoken remaining withheld.

Andrea's smirk fell away. Her face turned more serious than Miranda had ever seen it before. "Because I want to kiss you, and I want you to kiss me back."

Miranda dropped her head onto Andrea's chest. "When did this happen?" She spoke into Andrea's breast.

"I don't know," Andrea softly replied.

Miranda lifted her head. She stared into Andrea's eyes, not quite sure if she was going to try and push away again or give into Andrea's voiced desire. She wasn't sure what was going to happen until she felt her lips meeting Andrea's and felt Andrea pressing up against her.

It wasn't a perfect kiss, their mouths not yet used to the presence of the other's for it to be perfect, but it was emotional and without pretense. It was lustfully simple, and when they finally pulled away, Miranda could not find reason to regret it. "At this rate," she said as she carefully lifted herself up off of Andrea's body, "I'm never going to solve world hunger." Once settled on her own two feet, she reached out and offered Andrea a hand up.

Andrea laughed, and reached out to grab onto Miranda's hand. "It's not so important," she said as she stood up, and then was once again looking directly into Miranda's eyes.

The moment could have easily turned awkward, Miranda realized. Either of them could have started to stammer like immature teenagers who were for the first time falling into elementary explorations of their sexuality, but she didn't feel awkward. She felt comfortable with Andrea's presence, with their closeness. "Did you finish with the table?" She asked, turning back to the food.

"I did," Andrea proudly proclaimed.

"Then, help me serve the food."

Together, they laid the food out, and then shared the meal like they had shared every other meal. They spoke briefly about work, about friendships, their families, and their futures. They didn't speak about the kiss again until their meal was finished and Andrea was preparing to leave. Even then, it wasn't a conversation about how their relationship should proceed or whether or not they were now intimate partners. Andrea had simply asked, "Is it okay if I kiss you again before I leave?"

Miranda had reached out, placing her hands on Andrea's waist. "You'll regret it if you don't."

Andrea smirked, and then leaned over to capture Miranda's lips with her own. And, as second kisses went, Miranda believed that it was sort of perfect.

Miranda walked out of Elias-Clarke speaking on her cell phone berating Amanda for the car not being present when she had reached the ground floor. Conversation over, she snapped the cell phone shut, and when she looked up, she saw Andrea standing across the street watching her. She stopped and rested her hand against the roof of the town car, as Andrea dipped her head and waved. Miranda looked at her for a moment longer before she slid into the backseat.

Andrea shook her head before she started walking again, and Miranda took off her sunglasses and silently watched her. She couldn't help but smile as Andrea trotted off with the crowd. She waited for a moment longer, her patience beginning to wear thin when the door finally opened again and Andrea slid in next to her.

"Go," Miranda ordered her driver as soon as Andrea was situated.

Without a word, the driver pulled away from the curb. Miranda looked to Andrea who had a smile fixed on her face. "And what are you so annoyingly happy about?" She asked, well aware that Andrea's interview with The New York Mirror had just taken place.

Andrea's smile didn't fade. "You've been saying nice things about me."

Miranda feigned annoyance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Andrea leaned forward and placed a quick kiss against Miranda's lips. "Thank you." She said as she pulled away.

Miranda simply rolled her eyes as she slipped her sunglasses back on, not completely unaware of the hand Andrea had casually resting on her leg. She lifted her own hand and then placed it against Andrea's, happy that her life no longer was run by the deadened beat of a tireless rhythm. Somehow, she had once again managed to grasp onto moments of happiness. Her life wasn't perfect, wasn't wrapped in a nice colorful bow. She was still going through a very public divorce, still had two daughters whose lives were being uprooted once more, still had Irv's spite to contend with, but her life wasn't empty either.

"Congratulations," she whispered, dropping all pretenses she had taken on after Andrea had entered the car. She leaned over and brushed her lips against Andrea's, not at all caring what her driver would think or what anyone else might think either. She was alive again, and that was all she could figure really mattered.