When Miranda got to the townhouse she was still in shock, thinking about the brunette.
What was she supposed to do now? Did she even like Andrea? Yes, she did, a lot. But love?
Love of my life, said the book. Was she really? They did not know each other that much.
“But I love her too” she thought. But that could not happen. Andrea was so young and now was successful on her own. What could she want from Miranda? Everyone wanted something from her.
She went to the kitchen for a glass of wine, she needed to relax a little and think.
She sat down in and re read what her Andrea wrote. Hers? When did she start to think of Andrea as hers?
Long before she left me. Because she left me, after all.
What if she opened her heart to Andrea just for her to leave her again?
“These a lot of questions over a simple sign” she thought.
After finishing the wine Miranda went to her home office. It was still early and there was always a lot of work to do. Work she would get done if she ever stopped thinking of the brunette.
Across the city, Andy was still at the signing books event but was almost ready to leave, she had an interview to do. At least it was just radio, for now. She was not ready for the tv.
Andy was a well-known journalist and a lot of people knew her as just that. Her articles had gone multiple times to the front page of the New Yorker and to magazines when she did freelance work.
But tv? No, that was her limit. Or so she thought.
Now, she was going to finish here, go to the radio station and then go home to some well-deserved relax time.
Did she really wrote that in Miranda’s book? She did, she could pat herself on the back for being that brave.
“Brave or idiot” Andy thought. Maybe the last, but she had nothing to lose.
After almost five years she was more than ready to pursue Miranda. She was afraid of being rejected but that was a risk she had to take.
At least now she knew Miranda wasn’t that adverse to lesbianism. Seeing that she liked Andy’s books.
She remembered the day she started to write the first one. She was walking in front of the Elias Clarke after her interview with the New Yorker. That’s when she saw her. She thought she would never see Miranda again. But there she was, walking to get in the town car but stopped when she saw Andy. She waved but got no response other than a staring.
“Well, there goes nothing”. Andy started to walk home again but now she had a big smile on her face. She saw Miranda, even if for a few seconds, and Miranda saw her. And that was enough.
She went home and had nothing to do, so she sat down and wrote. At the beginning she wrote about her and how she was starting to find herself again and then, she ended up writing about Miranda. When she was done for the day she realized she had written quite a lot.
She started to use her free time to write her story, what she had hopped her life to be. And months later she realized she had written kind of a novel. A romance novel. A young woman falling in love with her older boss, also a woman.
“Wasn’t that cliché?” Andy thought. She had her doubts about it, what if no one liked that kind of stories?
“But what if someone does?” Lissa, a friend she did from the editorial team asked her once when Andy told her about the book. “Andy, come one! It’s a good story, you could get it published”
“What if I fail?”
“You won’t! But if you want, you could use a pseudonym or something. No one will know it was you” Lissa insisted again.
“Well, that’s a good idea” maybe Andy could take a chance at this.
“I know, it’s perfect. We should start looking for the perfect publishing house”
Now, back to the woman in question. Andy took the first step, now it was up to Miranda. The ball was in her court.
When she was finished with the interview she was really pleased with herself. The interviewer was nice and didn’t asked weird questions. Everything ran smoothly.
Just after she got home she started to get ready for dinner. Maybe she would order some Thai food or a pizza. She was in the mood to celebrate, even if it meant pizza, wine and a movie. That was a perfect plan in her eyes.
She got her phone and was about to make the call when a text message arrived.
We have to talk.
“Holy shit… this woman”
How did Miranda get Andy's number? But Miranda isn’t like any other woman, that's how she got Andy's number. And now it was up to Andy again.