Gwen is queen

Where is Andy now?

Probably at your apartment, she has your keys and phone. Or maybe she went to Emily’s hotel.

You try not to think of her with the redhead, how she would sound for her if they had…oh god.

What are the headlines of today’s news?

How are you going to get out of this mess?

Would your heart be broken for good?

By the time older woman comes in to check on you an hour later, you’re just sniffling.

Her hands carry a small tray with water, a banana and some pills. She places them on the side drawer next to your bed and perches on the edge.

You make a sort of whimpering sound, as if you’ll break all over again like last night on her carpet.

“Oh, Rayna”, her fingers brush some strands of the hair covering your face.

You would cry some more, but physically feel as if you’ve used up every drop left in your body.

Miranda’s gaze studies you carefully, as if assessing what to do next.

She decides to remove her slippers and climb over you to sit on the other half of the bed, not inside the sheets like you, but over them.

The other pillows are used as her back rest.

You turn to your other side, so that you’re now facing her. It feels a little awkward for the both of you, plus you’re self conscious about your puffy red eyes and general ‘in-the-trenches’ vibe.

But she continues to look down at you with tenderness, you don’t quite understand.

“You once asked me what happened with me and Sylvie back in the days and I told you we didn’t work out”, the older woman begins.

“Being at the Palace of Versailles yesterday bought back a lot of memories for me, not very good ones”, her voice has a cautiousness to it.

“Although, I enjoyed seeing you transformed into your mother. You were the highlight of my night”.

“These memories I speak of involve Sylvie and after last night, I think you may understand me”.

“Whereas before, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you because I thought you were too young and inexperienced”, she exhales.

“Can I now tell you what happened?”, Miranda regards you with a rawness you’ve only seen once. In Cassie’s hospital room.

“Yes”, your voice is croaky and almost gone.

“Your mother is in this story too, is that okay?”, she checks in.

“Yes, I want to understand”, you reply.

“Okay…you can close your eyes, try to be restful”, she suggests, but really you think she doesn’t want your gaze on her as she recalls her past.

Your eyes shut, as you allow her voice to transport you back to the days of her youth.

[1979 flashback]

The audience stands as the young designer takes his bow for the first time. Miranda Priestly is not concerned about the applause, she has to meet him before anyone else gets ahead of her.

‘Lost in Music’ by Sister Sledge is blasting.

The young woman quickly slips away from the rest of the Runway team and hurries towards the backstage. She’s bumps into a girl younger than her on the way, who immediately apologises.

“Je suis désolé! I was not watching my way”.

“It’s alright, I need to get backstage, can you show me?”, Miranda replies cooly.

“Of course, mademoiselle! I can show you the way in”, the girl eagerly turns back the way she came running from.

“What’s your name?”, the blonde asks.

“Jacqueline Follet. I want to work in this industry, so I got a job as a representative, showing guests their seating”, her accent is so cute.

“Well done. You can if you know the right people”, Miranda continues to follow her.

“Oui, I heard this”, she’s giddy.

“How old are you?”, the young woman asks again.

“19 years, mademoiselle. What about you?”.

“29 soon to be 30!”, she smiles.

“Are you with the Americans?”, Jacqueline returns the warm smile.

“Oui, with Runway”.

“Wow! That is magnifique!”.

"Nous y voilà, the back entrance”, the girl leaves her there, hurring back in the direction they came.

It’s too crowded and loud, but she’ll take the challenge. She’s not leaving without connecting.

Her eyes scan the room quickly and carefully, until they land on her target.

Miranda summons the courage to walk straight towards him finally. The young man of the hour.

“Matthieu, my name is Miranda Priestly, I’m with American Runway. This debut collection is outstanding. I was impressed by your eye for detail. I wanted to ask-”

"Eh meuf, te voilà! J'te cherchais partout”, Sylvie grabs her waist from the behind with one hand, a beer in the other, planting a sloppy kiss on the blonde’s cheek.

"Excusez-moi", Miranda expresses to the young designer apologetically.

She turns and links arm with her tipsy girlfriend, subtly dragging her away from the crowd and into one of the many rooms in the Palace of Versailles.

Her hand shuts the door firmly out of her own frustration and spins around towards Sylvie.

“Where the fuck have you been? You missed the entire second half of the show”.

"Tu peux te calmer? I was helping a friend…plus I needed my cigarette break”, the dark haired woman’s French accent is thick.

Her mischievous sparkling eyes that girls fall into quite often rake the American woman, as if she can’t believe she has her.

She swigs her beer and licks her lips, before pulling the blonde by the hem of her shirt towards her, hand reaching for her slender neck.

“You look so pretty, ma meuf. Let’s have some fun for a little bit?”, she winks, going in for a kiss.

“I’m working tonight, I need to make connections to help my career”, Miranda blocks her attempt and steps back, folding her arms.

“You always work, have some fun. I can help you make the connections later, if that’s what you want. I know these people, we grew up together”.

She’s too nonchalant, which ticks off her partner.

“Then you should know it’s all that I want Sylvie!”, the young woman raises her voice.

“Okay fine! Fucking hell, let’s go”, Sylvie bolts out of the room, without checking if Miranda is following her. Taking another swig of her drink.

The blonde trails behind her as they enter the backstage again, trying to appear calm.

People are even more chattier now than before.

They greet Sylvie as she moves through them like the MVP of the year. The blonde latches her hand onto her girlfriend, allowing herself to be led.

When she notices they’re passing Matthieu Delacroix, Miranda tugs slightly and gestures towards him with her eyes.

“It’s not the designer you want, it’s the top models. Once you get in with them, you’re in with most designers, oké?”, Sylvie whispers.

“Then show me what you promised me”, the young woman’s face is serious.

“Vas-y, chill un peu, play the game that’s all”, the French woman takes her hand again, continuing in the direction they were heading.

They approach a group of models in a passionate conversation with each other.

"Regina, ma meuf, t'étais trop ouf!", Sylvie greets the Heartbreaker with air kisses.

"Espèce de mytho! T'as tracé à mi-chemin. T'as même pas capté mon meilleur style”, the beautiful tall woman returns the kisses, laughing.

"C'est l'intention qui fait tout”, Miranda’s girlfriend replies. She winks playfully.

"Et c'est qui cette petite meuf trop chou? Enchanté ma belle”, Regina refers this to her but turns her attention to the American.

"Elle est encore en train d'apprendre le français, parle-lui en anglais”, Sylvie interjects.

“Oh sorry, you look like you speak French very well. Nice to meet you darling”, the Heartbreaker gives the blonde two air kisses. She also has a French accent, although not as strong.

“So, you are the one who got our Sylvie running to and from the US? I can see why”, she adds, regarding the young woman with curiosity.

“Oui. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, you were mesmerising tonight”, Miranda smiles.

“Aw you are sweet and so pretty, like a Barbie doll. You are a model too?”, Regina cocks her head.

“Her boss is the guy you’re dating recently”, Sylvie reveals with a cheeky smile.

The Heartbreaker laughs, amused by the coincidence. Something sparks in her eyes.

“I did not know Irv was hiring such beauties. Come party with us tonight. What is your name?”.

“Miranda Priestly”, she grins.

“Can I come too?”, a smaller voice appears out of nowhere and all of them turn to see Jacqueline Follet, her eyes big with excitement.

"Non Jackie, c'est une teuf de darons”, Regina emphasises quite firmly.

"Oh vas-y, Sylvie, dis-lui”, she pleads.

“C’mon Heartbreaker, she’s fine, I’ll watch her”, Sylvie teases.

“Fine, whatever. Where is Matthieu? He is coming too. I want him to meet our American Barbie”, Regina heads off with a few of the other models.

Sylvie looks at Miranda as if to say ‘see!’.

The young woman’s eyes sparkle, her girlfriend has kept her end of the bargain, even as chaotic as she’s been tonight.

A few hours later, everyone invited is gathered at some wealthy person’s house who offered to host the party. The heavy drinking culture and drugs is even more acceptable in this particular era.

Sylvie is already on her fourth drink and multiple cigarettes. The blonde is deep in conversation with Matthieu Delacroix about his collection. He seems more at ease to speak with her after Regina officially introduced her as a friend.

Not only this, several other young designers are in attendance, drunk off their faces. It’s so easy to connect this way. Miranda receives multiple contact details and promises that they’ll allow her to see their works for US Runway.

It’s a triumph.

So, she doesn’t care that her girlfriend has been missing for the last few hours of the party.

Regina is the one actually keeping a better eye on her, although constantly trying to get her drunk.

“Get our American Barbie another drink”, she gestures towards the server.

“Oui, mademoiselle!”, the young guy makes his way to the blonde, only to be gentle turned away for the fifth time. One drink is enough for her.

After wrapping up another connection. Miranda decides this has been a very successful evening and begins to search the house for Sylvie.

It’s a big mansion, everything feels like a maze.

She moves from one room to the next, starting to think her girlfriend has left the party entirely. This certainly wouldn’t be a first.

Maybe she could forgive her tonight if she goes back to their apartment to find her already asleep. At least she gave what she promised for so long.

As the young woman is making her way back to find the room where the party is being held, she gets lost and hears her name in a strange manner.

In between someone’s sounds of pleasure.

Her feet immediately lead her to the door it’s coming from. She presses her ear to it, listens, not knowing who’s on the other side yet.

What comes next makes her stomach turn.

"Et Miranda, elle dit quoi?", the first voice, she whimpers after this. Her voice is higher pitched.

"T'inquiète, je gère la meuf, continue juste à kiffer mes doigts en toi", Sylvie’s voice, not her normal tone, her bedroom voice.

After this they keep moaning with each other, it’s horrible to actually hear it this time, to witness it, she can’t take it, not anymore, not again.

Her hand finds the doorknob and turns it, not at all surprised it’s not even locked.

She steps inside, her blood already boiling.

Miranda sees the top of her girlfriend’s head under the covers, while fingering someone else.

“Are you fucking serious?! Sylvie!”, she yanks her by her hair, only to see none other than Jacqueline Follet underneath.

There’s a moment of surprise when they meet eyes, the blonde’s are fiery, the young girl’s are petrified and about to well up with tears.

“You little slut! This is your way of getting in is it?!”

She’s about to strike her when her girlfriend grabs her arms, pushing her back until she falls on the bed. Jacqueline covers herself and jumps off, already starting to pick up her clothes.

“Let go of me!”, Miranda screams, struggling with Sylvie until they fall off the bed, catching the young girl’s feet in between getting dressed.

All three of them tangle with each other.

Jacquline screams when she feels her hair being yanked and the blonde screams when she feels her girlfriend pulling her away from her target.

“I’m gonna kill you!”.

More struggling sounds.

The nearest person at the time hears the loud noises coming from the room and bolts inside.

“What the fuck is going on in here?!”, Regina runs to unhand the hair caught in the American Barbie’s grip. Bits of it fall off her hands.

The young girl hides behind her, crying her eyes out, while the model continues to be appalled.

“Sylvie, again? Are you serious?”.

The dark haired woman presses her lips, not sure what to say after being caught out.

There’s an uncomfortable silence.

At this point Miranda bursts into tears, removing herself from the floor, leaving only her soon-to-be ex girlfriend alone down there, half naked.

“Come with me”, Regina takes the blonde out of the room and searches for another empty one in the maze of this mansion.

Everything feels as if it’s collapsing around her, nothing is real. Her relationship, broken again.

The only thing she can manage to do is follow the footsteps leading her away. While trailing behind with a heart that’s unravelling at a fast rate.

When they step into another bedroom, the young woman collapses on the floor, leaning herself on the edge of the bed to cry very angry tears.

“I’m gonna murder her”, she repeats between her sobs. Feeling her chest pierced for the third time in their one year relationship.

“I am so sorry Miranda”.

“I love Sylvie as a friend, but she is a fucking asshole as a partner”.

The taller woman sits beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She offers some words of advice, though they’ve just met this evening.

“You deserve someone who respects you, truly is in love with you or at least who is filthy rich”.

“Sylvie offers none of those things”.

“She is a good time and knows a lot of people, but beyond this, nothing”.

“And she will not change, so do not waste your years on this”, Regina concludes.

The blonde continues to cry, letting the truth finally sink in. Why did she keep going back?

It was something outside of the great sex and beautiful dates that kept her.

“I want to be successful more than I want to be loved”, Miranda sniffs.

“She promised to get me to the right people”.

The model tuts.

“You did, by yourself, as much as you want to give her credit. You are brilliant alone”.

“Marry rich, like what I am about to do, if you do not care for love as the first priority”.

“That’s why you chose Irv?”, the blonde raises her head to gaze at Regina, regarding her with curiosity and something else.

“For many reasons, but of course, the money”.

The model smiles and gives her a comforting kiss on the cheek. They sit there together well into the early hours, talking about the future.

But eventually, the Heartbreaker gets one of her friends to drop Miranda at Sylvie’s apartment to pack her belongings. Leaving only a letter.

‘The Reasons I Am Breaking Up With You’

She catches the earliest flight back to New York.

[Present Day]

You open your eyes when she finally stops talking and you’re sure it’s not just a long pause.

“Wow”, your voice still croaky.

“I have so many questions”, you sit up in bed, noticing you’re wearing her silk pyjamas.

When did that happen?

Sometime last night probably, but you don’t remember. How did she even get you in here?

“I knew my story would rise you from this bed”.

“Before I answer your very many questions, why don’t you eat and drink that first”, Miranda points to the small tray with the banana, water and pills.

The quietness brewing as you follow her instructions isn’t as awkward anymore, it feels slightly comfortable, although you still feel self conscious about your appearance.

“The pills are for any migraines”.

How thoughtful of her. Maybe she had similar symptoms with her own sapphic heartbreak.

“Thank you, Miranda”.

She considers you, watching the way you relax into the pillows as a back rest.

You gaze back, feeling yourself getting warm.

“First question”.

“Let’s hear it”, her small smile is amused.

“I thought you said you and my mom weren’t close?”, there’s a slight suspicion in your tone.

“We weren’t. I told you at the Benefit we shared some words over the years and she was always honest. That was another of those moments”.

“So you never hung out again like this?”.

The older woman shakes her head.

“I mean, I moved back to New York, then she followed a few months after to be with your father. I got married, had the twins. We both had different lives, but I saw her at events”.

“Mm okay, that’s fair I guess”.

“Why do you keep asking me this? Do you wish I had been closer to her?”.

You think about it for a second.

“Not really. I just like hearing about her life”.

“I see…well, I can understand that”.

“Okay, next question”.

She looks at you as if you should just ask it.

“Did you ever speak to Sylvie after the letter you left for her in the apartment?”

“She tried, but no”.

“How come?”.

“I was finally done and when I’m done with someone, I don’t desire to be in contact”.

“Did you ever think of her though?”.

She goes quiet for a moment.

“Of course, for years in fact. I reflected a lot on my relationship with her”.

“And what did you find at the end of that?”

Miranda’s expression is thoughtful.

“I found that I thought I would be in control of my feelings and not fall in love, but I did. She knew so many people in the industry and I wanted to climb up quickly when we first met. The idea of love was not really what I was focused on. I wanted her to open the doors for me that I couldn’t”.

“So you were using her?”

“It was the 70s we were all using each other. She obviously wanted an American trophy girlfriend and I wanted success. I just didn’t predict the part where I actually fell for her and got attached for a whole year, even after she cheated on me”.

“After reflecting, I think maybe she never felt secure with me, so didn’t fully commit because she knew I wanted something outside of her and our relationship more than anything else”.

Your heart starts to beat fast inside you.

“I still loved her of course, in some illogical way. And she worshipped me, especially at the beginning of us. She wanted it to work”.

“So, when I think back on Sylvie, we were young, trying to prove something to the world and other people. We fell in love along the way and hurt each other in the end”.

“Like you and Andrea”, she pauses to look at you.

Your mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words.

“What do you mean?”, your voice is quiet.

Miranda starts to laugh a little.

“Rayna, I wasn’t born yesterday”.

“I know…I just wonder if you can expand”.

“Fine”.

“Why don’t I spell it out for you, since you want to play oblivious with me”.

You swallow thickly.

“Do you want me to believe that this thing between you and my assistant wasn’t a ruse to get back at me?”.

“It wasn’t a get back”, your voice is defensive.

“No?”, hers is annoyed.

“No, not at all”, you look at her in disbelief.

“As if I could hurt you”.

“Then what else if you didn’t intend on hurting me?”, her voice becomes strained.

“You don’t get it”, you get up from the bed feeling hot and misunderstood.

“Please explain it to me”, she scoots at the edge of the bed, waiting for you, her arms folded.

The way you’re pacing the room, makes her more agitated and you more frustrated.

“So, you can’t even explain it”.

“I WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME!”, you spin back to face her, the tears that had been dehydrated now falling freely, hard thick tears of heartache.

“I WANTED YOU TO BE JEALOUS ENOUGH TO CHASE ME AND HAVE THE COURAGE TO NOT GIVE A FUCK WHAT PEOPLE THINK OF US”, your voice is raw and soon going.

You start to cough, catching your breath.

“I wanted you to see me, I wanted your attention and above all else, I wanted the tenderness in your eyes. I wanted you to need me so badly you could leave your husband”.

“Andy wanted the same courage from Emily, so yes we were fake dating okay! Then yes I fell in love with her and I think she fell back”.

“And I loved my life with her”, you choke.

“I loved her so much, it shocked me that I couldn’t stop it. Then you never came for me”.

“And all I had, we had, was the fake-real relationship and it was confusing and lovely and scary”.

“And then it fell all apart before us”.

“So, no, I didn’t want to hurt you Miranda. I have always loved you and always will. I think”

Your voice is gone.

You wipe your tears with the end of the borrowed pyjama shirt, afraid to look up at her.

There’s nothing else left you can say.

You hear a sniff and finally meet eyes to see her face is stained, with her own thick tears.

The room is silent except for your shared sniffs and occasional whimpers. The tears keep coming.

“I’m so sorry Rayna”, she stands up and walks to face you, her hands immediately reaching for you.

“I’m sorry I drove you to this”.

“I should have had more courage with you”, she bites her lower lip regretfully.

“I was just so afraid of my feelings for you and their consequences if I were to act on them”.

“So, I pushed you away. I was mean, I dismissed your letter and feelings. I ignored you, I was harsh on you, like you weren’t precious to me”.

She chokes on her own words.

“Meanwhile I was dying inside, dying to want to see your smile, your sweet words to me, your tenderness and charm, your warmth and pure soul. I was dying to love you and be loved by you”.

“When I came back to New York at 29, I promised myself I would not fall for another woman again”.

“It worked for years and I have a busy life so never needed to stop and think too long on it”.

“But when you entered me and the twins’ lives, you were such a light to us from the beginning, even as you were facing the darkest hour of your young life”, her voice has so much passion.

“You had a courage and strength I admired since you were a child. I always wanted to protect it”.

“Of course, we got along. You were always sweet”.

“Then, when you were in high school something changed, I recognised it pretty quickly and that’s when my fear begun”.

“I noticed the way you looked at me and lingered. It made me feel like I needed to be careful”.

“And I was, until you started to write to me during your college years. It crossed my mind, that I felt something change in me too”.

“I was still afraid, even when you told me the truth I knew, I was terrified of losing everything”.

“The day we spoke about the letters on your yacht, I wanted to push you away for good”.

“I assumed it worked when you stopped trying, but seeing you suddenly date my assistant, I thought you wanted to hurt me as I had hurt you”.

“I didn’t think you still wanted me to try”.

“My marriage with Stephen pretty much fell apart after this, I shut him out and he left me”.

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing Rayna, but my feelings for you haven’t changed. I still feel a strong attraction towards you, all the time”.

Miranda wipes her face with her bare hands.

Both of you look at each other silently.

“Can I hug you?”, she asks.

You nod, before she immediately brings you into her warm embrace.

She holds you for the first time, without the immediate intention of wanting to let go.

The small scattered parts of your heart all over the floor begin to find each other, as if about to rebuild, not quite there yet, but just the hint of it.

“God, what a mess”.

“And now your voice is gone, so you can’t even reply back to me”.

You pull away from the hug and mimic writing a letter, until it clicks for her as well.

“Oh!”, she exclaims.

“Wait right there”, the older woman dashes out of the guest bedroom for a few minutes, before returning with writing materials.

“Take your time and I’ll leave you to it”.

Her eyes are starting to puff like yours.

You nod and sit at the small desk in the room.

Miranda lingers for second as if wanting to say more but decides to save it for later. She slips out and you can hear her footsteps fade away.

Before you start to think of a reply, you take a shower and refreshen up as much as you can. Realising the only clothes you have are the silk pyjamas from the older woman.

The other thing you really need is your phone.

You wonder if Andy is thinking about this.

She may be worried not knowing where you are.

Or maybe she’s with Emily, like you are with Miranda, talking about the mess they’re in too.

When you come back from the en-suite bathroom you notice a lunch has been left for you on the side. Nothing too heavy, a small sandwich and more water, of course.

You nibble on it slowly as you consider where to start with the years of emotions you both unpacked in front of each other.

{Dear Miranda,

I write this sat in your guest bedroom, which is very cosy by the way. It reminds me of your study back in New York. Great taste as always!

You’ll probably read it in here too, in a few minutes, so I hope it can make you smile, because we’ve cried enough for a lifetime.

I don’t where to start.

The line sticking with me right now from what you spoke is, ‘I was dying to love you and be loved by you’.

It healed a little bit of something in me.

I thought I was being delusional sometimes, but I felt it. That’s why I was so desperate for you.

Even to go to such lengths as fake dating Andy.

Because I asked myself the day you sat with me on the yacht. ‘How do you get the attention of an already powerful woman?’

At first I thought it was to show her more power and wealth. But that didn’t work.

Then I thought it was to make her feel as if she’s losing someone she almost had, forever.

I thought this one worked, but now I’m not sure.

So, I ask again.

‘How do you get the attention of an already powerful woman?’

Maybe, forget the part of her being powerful for a moment and remember her humanity. How she can also be just as afraid as you are and appeal to this side of her, with a little patience.

Maybe tell her how you feel without a ruse.

And let time do the rest for you both.

What do you think?

Yours always,

Rayna.

P.S I can’t wait to talk your ear off again}

By the time you finish this off and devour your lunch, Miranda is knocking at the door.

You try to say ‘come in’, but remember you have no voice so, instead of calling out again, you stand and open it for her.

“I’m glad to see you’ve eaten”, she starts, feeling a little awkward again.

Your hand beckons for her to sit on the edge of the bed and you hand her the letter, sitting back down in the armchair by the desk.

Her hands seem a little nervous as she unfolds and begins to read to herself.

But soon enough you see a small smile creep on her lips and eventually her eyes are glassy again.

“Oh, Rayna”, she clutches her heart subconsciously, towards the end of it.

“I always love how you word things”.

Miranda doesn’t answer you right way, she re-reads it again to let it sink in.

“How do you get the attention of an already powerful woman?”, her gaze finds yours.

“I don’t feel all that powerful most of the time”, she chuckles, mostly to herself.

“But I think your third answer may be the one”.

“I knew from the yacht meeting you weren’t being yourself and although I regret the way I spoke to you, those things weren’t untrue”.

“What I should have said instead of the competence comment, is how I know deep down you don’t want to continue in your father’s career footsteps because you spent three years of your college years writing to me about another entirely different industry to fashion and journalism”.

“Your heart isn’t in Runway or being the CEO”.

“I’ve seen that your heart yearns for a simpler lifestyle involving a lot of nature and away from what you call ‘superficial things’”.

“The incompetence isn’t from your lack of intelligence or skill but love for the work. Do you understand?”.

You nod, following.

“Do you forgive me?”.

Your feet stand to move towards the bed.

Instead of nodding, you hug her, resting your head on her shoulder. She holds you again.

It feels comforting.

You desire more.

After she releases, you grab a new sheet of paper, writing frantically.

{I liked the feeling of being held by you. Can I ask if you can play with my hair?}

You hand it to her.

A soft smile grows on her lips.

“Yes, come on then”.

The older woman climbs back onto her side of the bed, where the pillows still stand against the wall. She resumes her position from earlier and pats her lap as if to summon you.

Miranda Priestly about to play with your hair?

This is unreal, like this whole day.

Your feet float to her, climbing onto your side to bring your head down to her, so it’s facing her stomach. Her scent alone sends you to the moon.

Just the feeling of your head touching her lap makes your heart go insane. The anticipation of her slender fingers reaching into your scalp, makes you want to scream.

Instead of losing your mind, again, you close your eyes, facing away from her gaze.

Her long fingers dip into your wild hair, beginning with gentle scratches that grow more firm, the more you respond to her, like a kitten.

If you could purr, you’d be purring for your life.

She smells so good, it’s so close to your nostrils.

Her body feels soft under you and to think her breasts are just above you, hidden in her top, makes you extremely turned on.

You feel as though she might be too, with the way her breathing is changing, as if the air is too thick.

If you look at her face you think you could tell better, but you’re feeling shy and quite content.

It’s at least thirty minutes into your head scratches you hear a voice calling from downstairs.

“Mooooom!”, her tone sounds hurried and footsteps are already coming up to this floor.

“Stay here and be quiet…well you have no choice”, Miranda moves your head and slips out of the room, to bump into her daughter.

“Cassidy, what have I told you about a more ladylike entrance. You don’t have to holler”.

“Mom! I’ve been trying to get a hold of Ray since last night. She’s not answering me, I even went to her apartment and let myself in-”

“You should stop doing that”, her mother cuts in.

“I hear you mom, but no the point”.

“Wait, what’s wrong? Your eyes are all puffy and red, have you been crying?”, her voice concerned.

“I had an allergy reaction”, Miranda waves it off.

“Okayyy, anyways, so I go in, no one is in there, but all their stuff is. I try to get Andy’s number from Emily and she’s not answering me too, so I don’t where Ray is”.

Her mother sighs, seeming unsure what to say.

“What if she’s hurt and she needs me!”.

“Cassidy, calm down. Rayna had a big night yesterday, give her time to recover, okay?”.

“Fine, I’m gonna kill her still”.

There’s a bit of silence as she rethinks her worry.

“How was your date?”, Miranda swiftly changes the subject.

“Oh my gosh, mom! It was so dreamy. He’s a really good egg and the view at the Ritz!”.

“Come downstairs and tell me over drinks, are you hungry?”, she begins to move away from the guest bedroom door.

“A little. Mom! Something hilarious happened as we were checking in last night. Do you remember the lady who usually works the desk there?”, Cassie follows her, their voices fading.

“I don’t actually”.

“Well you should, I feel like you do know, she was the one who you thought wanted…”

They’re gone.

You exhale the breath you were holding for their entire interaction. You really need your phone.

Seeing as you can’t go downstairs either, you use the time Miranda is away to write more notes to her and also a letter for Andy.

After this you take a nap, only waking up later in the evening feeling super hungry.

When you step into the hallway, there aren’t any voices downstairs you can hear. You risk it.

“She’s gone”.

Miranda’s sudden voice frightens you.

“Sorry!”, she starts to laugh.

“I saw you were sleeping, so I left you, but you must be starving by now”.

“Let’s have dinner”.

You give her some of the little notes you’d written while her and Cassie were catching up.

{I need my phone, to text Cassie and Andy too}

{Thank you for the head scratches}

{You smell incredible}

{I’m hungry!}

Her smile grows reading through them.

“Well, this last one we’re taking care of now”.

“I’ll call Andrea to drop off your essentials here, you need not see her if you’re not ready”.

You nod and follow her into her dining room.

Dinner is quiet, not by choice.

Miranda had her personal chef make bouillabaisse for you and her.

A traditional dish from the south of France she often wrote about in her letters to you. With of course a glass of her Chêne Bleu Le Rosé.

It’s hardly a date, considering all the things happening with Andy and even with her.

But it feels, safe.

You slide a note to her with a question from the story she shared about her past sapphic breakup.

{Do you have a photo of Sylvie?}

She looks up at you and laughs.

“Why do you want to see her?”

You shrug and return a smile.

“Okay, let me see”, she gets up from the table, your gaze following her back and the way she moves so elegantly.

God, how can you be experiencing the best and worst day of your life in one?

Your eyes avert back to your plate when she returns with an old box.

Her hands search cautiously, as if she’s afraid something will jump out or bite her.

“There”, she pulls out a small little picture and slides it over to you.

It’s sepia toned styled, of a young woman with short semi-curly hair smiling.

Your smile grows into a grin.

“What is it?”, Miranda is very intrigued.

Your hand quickly writes another note and pass it to over to her.

{She looks like a member of One Direction, definitely a 70s playboy}

The older woman actually laughs, covering her mouth. You try to join her but clutch your throat.

“A lot of people back in the days had this hair”.

You write another question.

{Can I see another one of you? I only have the one you mailed with your letter}

You feel yourself blush while she reads it, knowing how it’s been your night companion for years.

Miranda’s hands search the box again, this time more relaxed. You stare at her fingers.

“Here, this one will do”, sliding it over.

She watches your expression, the way you caress her face like you always do the other picture.

In this new one she’s smiling, that same bright beam you’ve seen occasionally over the years.

{Gosh, you are beautiful in every era. I can see why my mom called you American Barbie.

I think I have to agree with her.

Why didn’t you model?

Also, is the necklace from Sylvie?}

Miranda laughs again, clearly enjoying your little notes more than you expected.

“Thank you, but I wanted more…not that modelling isn’t a career. I had a specific vision for my life and I wasn’t going to veer away from it”.

“Also, yes it was a gift for my birthday”.

You nod and smile, as if to say ‘I get it’.

When it falls quiet, you rummage through some of the other questions you’d written upstairs.

{Is Sylvie why you and Jacqueline Follet dislike each other so much?}

At this, she smirks.

“A little bit, believe it or not. But I mainly dislike her because she has no vision, she’s always wormed her way to the top”.

{You were really throwing hands in the 70s?}

She laughs even more.

“It wasn’t a time for using your words, unfortunately”.

You want to laugh with her so badly.

“Alright, enough questions for now. I told Andrea to come anytime soon so, if you want to go upstairs, I’ll take care of everything”.

Then she surprises you, by planting a very soft kiss on your forehead.

Of course you melt.

And remember to hand the letter you’d written for your soon-to-be ex fake girlfriend.

“I’ll make sure she gets this”.

By the time you’re upstairs you eventually hear Miranda opening her front door and voices speaking inaudibly.

You’re sitting in the armchair, feeling the twisting of your heart return, with the thought of Andy just a few steps down away from you.

It makes you want to weep.

You rest your head on the desk in front of you, waiting and feeling slightly sick.

When the older woman comes to find you after twenty minutes have passed, her face is unreadable.

“Here, the other things are downstairs”, she hands you your phone and smaller travel bag.

You open it to see your clothes neatly folded and the right essentials inside. Of course she would know which things you need. It makes you burst into tears. Why is her care making it hurt more?

“I’m sorry”, Miranda brings you into a hug, rubbing your back in gentle circles like the first night you came here.

“Andrea also resigned this evening”, she breaks the news, her voice still soft.

You pull away, confused.

“I know. She said she’s had a potential job lined up in New York for a few months but wasn’t sure, until yesterday”.

“I’ll give you time to text her”.

“Goodnight. I’m in my bedroom if you need me”.

With this she leaves and closes the door.

You unlock your phone to see thousands of messages and missed calls.

The only ones that matter are Cassie, Caroline and Andy’s. Starting with the expecting.

‘Everything is fine, we’re just so excited for the baby to arrive now. You’re gonna be an aunty soon.’

‘We’re watching the live stream fashion show! You look just like your mom, wow, she’d be so proud.’

‘Hey, Cassie is trying get a hold of you, you okay?

‘Hey! Sorry for the delayed reply, I didn’t have my phone with me and it’s been a bit crazy. Will fill you in properly. I’m so ready to be the cool gay aunt, but I fear Cassie may be the coolest one.’

‘See you both soon!’

Okay, next.

‘Hey did you find Andy?’

‘I didn’t get to introduce you to my Achilles, he’s here tonight.’

‘Have you gone home already?’

‘Roy’s just come to pick us up, so see you tomorrow okay!’

‘Oh my gosh, something hilarious just happened whilst trying to check in.’

‘Rayyyyy, hello, you okay?’

‘Pls answer, I’m starting to get worried!’

‘Okay maybe you’re doing gay activities, enjoy!’

‘Morning!! Let’s do brunch?’

‘RAY! You said you’d not ignore my texts again.’

‘I’m coming to your apartment!’

‘Where’s Andy?’

‘Nvm, just call me when you’ve recovered.’

‘I’m sorry Cassie! I didn’t have my phone.’

Before you start typing more she’s already typing.

‘Bitch when I catch you! I was really worried!’

‘Call me! I miss you, where are you? Pls don’t say you’re back in NY already??’

‘I can’t, I lost my voice.’

‘No, I’m still in Paris. It’s been actually insane, so can I tell you later, right now I can’t. Please don’t be mad.’

‘Okay fine, as long as you’re okay.’

‘How’s Achilles?’

‘Hot! and really sweet actually. He’s been helping me stay calm because I wanted to murder you.’

‘Oh! Do thank him for me then!’

‘I’m rolling my eyes.’

‘Okay Cassie. I gtg, but enjoy, you deserve this chapter 💓’

She hearts the message and you move on.

‘I just read your letter, can I please call you?’

Your heart starts to beat really fast.

‘I can’t, I’ve lost my voice’.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

Three dots appear and disappear a few times.

‘Ray, I’m so sorry for last night. The truth is I was feeling overwhelmed with everything. When you disappeared before the show I wasn’t sure what was happening at first and started to feel super anxious, so Em offered me something to keep me calm and it just didn’t sit well with me. I was a bit out of it the more the night went on. And when the show ended, she said she wanted to talk and make her feelings known. Which she did. She wants us to try again and be exclusive and she didn’t want to lose me.

With phase four ending, I felt so heartbroken, knowing we were gonna part, so I just wanted to not think about it constantly, and I ended up kissing her. I thought to secure this with her before we breakup. I’m sorry cos even typing it sounds so shitty of me and there’s no excuses. I didn’t want to hurt you in the process and now I have and I’m sorry.’

You put your phone down for a second and climb on the bed to cry.

Andy did seem out of it, you remember the way her eyes were lit up and how she didn’t hesitate coming on stage when usually she’s so shy.

You remember how dilated her eyes were when you caught them together, her speech was off.

After a few minutes of sniffling, you draft a reply back to her, feeling your heart break again.

‘I’m sorry too, for this mess we’re in with the fake dating and flashy proposal. We never felt truly secure here. In all honesty Andy, I don’t how to feel right now. I don’t know what to say to you, than what I’ve already written.’

‘I’m sorry to see you leave Runway, because you were excelling so well, but I do think we need to have some space away from each other.’

‘If you still wanted your job, I could have done the meetings remotely to give you space or take some time away from the overseeing role until later.’

‘In a weird way that may be hard to grasp right now, we both got what we agreed at the very beginning of the grand plan. So please don’t feel too bad, I know it hurts. We just need to work through it separately and hopefully move forward.’

‘I’ll miss you so much.’

‘You’ll make a great partner to whomever you’ll settle with and I wish you all the best in your career.’

‘I won’t be coming back to the NY apartment, so you can have time to get your stuff. Thank you for what we shared, being there for me during hard times and your care for me.’

Sent.

You turn off your phone and cry yourself to sleep. Not ready to deal with Andy’s absence in your life.

In the middle of the night you wake up from a bad dream about her and Emily.

Your feet take you outside into the hall, towards her bedroom, like many years ago. Except, this time when you turn to open her door, the lights are off, she doesn’t rouse so easily and you cross over to the other side instead of waiting.

Her space is no longer off limits.

You slip into her bed and nudge her a little.

“Rayna?”, she turns to you.

“Did you have a nightmare?”.

You nod.

She considers you for a moment.

“It’s okay, everything will be okay”, her voice has tenderness. Her hand reaches over to your arm, to smooth it, in a slow motion.

“I’m here, I’ll take care of you now”.

It feels good to be touched by her softness.

You can’t tell her expression in the dark of the night, but it resembles something thoughtful.

“Would you like that?”

You nod eagerly, wishing you had your voice and words more than ever.

Her breathing is changing with you so close, like earlier when she was in your hair.

That soft hand of hers begins to travel up, up, up, until it’s secured firmly behind your neck.

You scoot towards her and she meets you along the way, your faces so close.

“I won’t be careful anymore”, she whispers.

Chapter Eight - The Mommy

(coming soon)

chapter eight may be a little delayed but we’re heading into mommy priestly smut 🫦