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Andy was well and truly fucked. God, she didn't even know how she got into this situation in the first place. Well—okay, she did know, she just didn't think it would spiral into this…mess.
It had started as a lie. A small, harmless lie to get out of an after-work drink.
"I can't, I have a thing." She'd said when one of her coworkers—Shane—had invited her.
It worked for a bit. They invite her, she says she has a "thing" and they back off. But of course, nothing is ever that simple. Her coworkers eventually became skeptical of her excuses (mostly because she never specifies her "thing" but could you blame her? She's never been a good liar).
"Come on, Andy, your 'thing' can't be that important. Come and get drinks with us for once." Greg, her editor, had said.
"I really can't, Greg. You know how it is—"
"I really don't. I'm starting to actually think you don't even have a thing."
Shit. Well, there goes that lie. Come on, Andy, think. What could be a good excuse to get out of something without raising suspicions?
"My wife is a very scary woman, Greg." Andy blurted out before she could think.
Fuuuuuck. Holy shit why did she say that?
"Wife?" Greg asked, surprised. There was still a bit of skepticism in his voice but he seemed inclined to believe her.
Okay, she could run with this. A little lie won't hurt anyone, right?
"Yeah, plus the kids are at that age where they need a lot of attention, you know?" Andy said, a small smile on her face, but inside she was absolutely beating herself up—because, really? Adding kids to the mix?
"Oh." Greg seemed to soften. "Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?"
Andy shrugged, "I try to keep my work and my personal life as separate as possible."
"Alright, fair enough. Enjoy your family time, Andy."
And it worked. For three whole years, it worked.
In the beginning, it was just small stuff—dodging the Friday night outs, leaving early from company events, maybe even take the time off— those kinds of stuff. But then, somewhere along the one year mark, the lie starting growing its own legs and suddenly became this living, breathing entity that Andy had to feed everyday or else it would starve and expose her as the office weirdo who invented a whole family just to get out of some events.
So, Andy had no choice but to keep feeding it. And feed it she did.
She fed into the lie until it became a full-blown affair. Wife was scary but doting, was doing very important work in her field—kids were twin red-heads, about 10 or so now, got the red hair from their mother, and were hellions, mischievous but also very sweet. Soon, she started using the family thing to get out of more major events. I mean, she already started it, why not use it to her advantage, right?
Getting out of a meeting 30 minutes early? Yeah, the twins had a recital and wife would kill her if she missed it. Gala on Friday? No can do, she's taking the wife out on a dinner date—you know, keep the romance going.
Her colleagues thought it was cute. Thought she was some kind of family woman when in reality all Andy did was go home to her sad, empty little apartment, eat take out on the couch while watching some kind of documentary and wallowing in self-pity because what has life become, truly?
And, well, it's not like she can actually admit that everything had been a lie. Like seriously, her reputation would take a massive hit. Who even lies about things like this?
Well, Andy, apparently.
By the two-year mark, the lie had grown heavier, making it much harder to keep up. Especially when she got her Pulitzer.
It was supposed to be a happy affair for her, but she spent the entire night buzzing in anxiety as colleague after colleague inquired about her family's whereabouts.
"It's fine, really," She'd told Greg (the nth person to have inquired about the family), clutching a champagne glass and leaning against one of the marble pillars.
"Wife was devastated that she'll miss it, she almost turned the private jet around." Andy said, feigning an endeared laugh. "I eventually got her to calm down and actually go through with the business deal."
Greg laughed, "I swear, I just know that woman is obsessed with you. It's rare, Andy. Truly."
"Trust me, I'm aware of how lucky I am." Andy replied, her grin straining just enough to look softened rather than a portrayal of the anxiety she felt.
"The girls actually sent me a video of them screaming at the TV in their hotel room. Apparently, they were screaming so loud the other guests made a noise complaint. They're on a field trip in D.C., right now and they've been glued to the livestream."
"God, a support nertwork like that?" Greg shook his head and patted her shoulder, "No wonder you're outperforming everyone in the company. Good for you, Andy."
Andy simply smiled. It was strained around the edges but she hoped nobody noticed.
It was incredible, really. Andy should have won a second Pulitzer just for the screenplay she was writing for her own life.
The days in the office following her award was a special sort of hell. She had anticipated that by receiving the award, she'd garner some attention—she didn't anticipate the attention would be directed to her domestic life.
Everytime she walked passed a colleague, it was always, "So did the wife do anything big to celebrate the award?" or "I bet she gave you something very personal." accompanied with a nudge and a wink.
Andy would just laugh nervously, her heart doing its best to try and escape the confines of her chest. "Oh, you know her, she never does things halfway. The moment she got home, she took me out to dinner to our favorite place, and then we had another celebration when the twins got home from the fieldtrip."
Andy was trapped in a cage that she had built herself. Eventually, she started putting a calendar on her desk, random dates marked just to keep the lie going. Mar 14: Twins' soccer game. Mar 20: Wife has a board meeting, will come home late. Mar 22: Parent-teacher conference. Hell, she even bought a fake wedding band just in case her co-workers got curious on why she wasn't wearing one.
Now here she was, in the three-year mark. The lie has now grown teeth and had come to finally bite her in the ass. Because next Friday was The Mirror's 50th Anniversary gala, and Greg was now coming towards her desk with three invitations in hand—she already knew where this was going.
Greg finally reached her desk, placing the invitation on top of it. "You already know what I'm going to say, Andy."
He leaned against her desk, "We've worked together for three years yet I've never even caught a glimpse of your family." He paused, smiling down at her. "The 50th Anniversary Gala in next Friday. I'm sure you know it's a huge milestone for the company. Bring the whole brood—I already made arrangements to put you at a table for four."
Andy's smile felt so brittle, a light breeze over it would make it shatter. "A table for four…right."
"Front and center—only the best for our lead journalist." Greg beamed. "I told them your wife is scary, so they better make sure the food is good or we're all in trouble."
Greg gave her shoulder a light pat before walking away.
As soon as Greg was out of sight, Andy leaned down on her desk, her head hitting the wood with a muffled thud. This was it. This was the end. The series finale. The part where she gets caught in the lie and has to fake her own death and move to a remote village and change her name to something generic like Anne.
Later that night, sitting in her dark living room, she opened her laptop—the light of the screen illuminating her almost terrified expression. Her fingers trembled as she navigated to the only site where people were crazy enough to actually consider her request.
New York City > all community > activity partners
Post New Ad.
Title: Looking for someone to pose as my wife and kids (serious inquiries only)
I need someone to pose as my wife and kids for a company event. I told my colleagues that I had a wife and kids at home to get out of some gatherings and now it's come to bite me in the ass. I'm too deep into the lie now that it would damage my reputation if I ever just say it outright.
So if you meet the below description, please please do not hesitate to contact me:
-Wife has to be stubborn and grumpy
-Wife preferably has light hair (but dark is also fine, we can just say wife dyed it)
-Kids has to be twin daughters and has to be read-heads
-Kids has to be around 10-11 years old
Please help me maintain my dignity and reputation I am begging you all. I will pay 1000$ just for the day (there will be food in the event as well). Contact me ASAP so we can meet up and run through the lie before the event.
Andy hit send and prayed like she's never prayed before.
────۶ৎ────
Caroline Priestly was bored. And no, it wasn't just "there's nothing to do" bored, but it was the kind of bone-deep, soul-sucking, mind-numbing boredom which subsequently led her to scrolling through those ridiculous Craigslist Ads that Cassidy had been so entertained of.
"Wow, 'Looking for someone to wake me up like a drill sergeant. 100$,'." Cassidy read over her shoulder, tone conveying more dryness than the Sahara dessert could ever hold. Clearly Caroline wasn't the only one bored out of her mind.
Caroline snorted, "Bo-ring. Can they show us something interesting?"
Cassidy flopped to her side, and groaned, "Why is there literally nothing to do? I thought we'd have lots of fun since it's summer."
Caroline huffed, "Well, it can't be helped. Dad cancelled last minute—again—and mom was only notified this morning so she couldn't move her schedule around."
"Don't remind me." Her twin grumbled.
They fell silent, Caroline still scrolling through her phone, and Cassidy staring blankly at the ceiling when Caroline exclaimed with a gasp:
"No, way."
Cassidy scrambled to sit up, "What? What?"
"Look at this one. Looking for someone to pose as my wife and kids (serious inquiries only.)"
The two read the post, getting more and more bewildered by each required feature the post had described.
"Wife has to be stubborn and grumpy." Cassidy read out loud, "Light hair…twin daughters…must be readheads…ten or eleven years old."
The twins shared a slow, devious look—the kind that promised a day of mischief and trouble.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Cassidy mirrored Caroline's smirk, "We accept the Ad, help keep this person's job, and maybe even get Mom a date who isn't a total snooze-fest."
"She'll kill us."
"She will." Cassidy agreed. "But that's where the fun is."
Caroline grinned, "Draft the email."
From: cass[email protected]
Subject: Craigslist Ad
Hi there!
My sister and I saw your ad. This is such a weird coincidence, but we're eleven-year-old twins with red hair. Our mom is also exactly as you described (its kind of freaky how that is but its also so fun).
We think we can help you with your situation. We're free for the event you mentioned and are great at acting. Get back to us soon with the details!
Let's save your reputation.
—C & C
The two leaned back to inspect their handywork, a satisfied smile curling up their lips.
"Send it." Caroline said.
Cassidy hit the send button and they waited.
Not even five minutes later, Caroline's phone pinged. The twins exchanged devious grins as they read the reply.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Craigslist Ad
Hi! Oh my god, thank you so so so much for accepting the ad!! I could cry right now, you're literally saving my job and reputation. Can we meet tomorrow to discuss the details? There’s a cafe in the Village, very quiet. I’ll be wearing a blue shirt so it's easier for you to spot me.
Assuming you and your sister are actually eleven-year-olds and not serial killers in disguise, I think it would be fair for me to leave my basic details. I'm Andy Sachs, if you know me—no you don't (seriously, please, don't tell anyone about this I will actually die) and the event we're going to go is the Mirror's 50th Anniversary Gala.
But kidding aside, will tomorrow work? Let me know otherwise!
—Andy
Caroline snorted, "Oh, she's funny."
Cassidy hummed, "Andy Sachs…where have I heard that name before."
Caroline furrowed her eyebrows, "Maybe she's well-known?"
Cassidy hummed, going to Google and search 'Andy Sachs'.
"Holy crap."
Caroline peeked over her shoulder, "Woah. She's that journalist that covered the digitalisation of Runway!"
"She has a Pulitzer!" Cassidy gasped.
"She's gorgeous too. Big brown eyes, long brown hair, tall…" Cassidy said, making eye contact with her sister before a devious grin spread across their faces.
"Exactly mom's type." They said in unison.
"Now begs the question: is she single?" Caroline asked as Cassidy pulled up Andy's Instagram account.
"Looks like it. No mention of a partner, no pictures together with someone else—and would she really put out a Craigslist Ad if she had someone?"
Caroline hummed, "Good point. This is like, parent trap but only one of them is actually our parent."
Cassidy snorted, "It's also a thousand dollars. Not that we need it."
They didn't really need the money, no. They were doing this simply for the love of the game—and maybe get their mother a date.
The two shared a grin, "So, mission start?"
────۶ৎ────
Andy sat in a booth looking like she was about to throw up. God, how has it come to this, truly?
She was practically vibrating with nerves at her seat. Her hands were clammy, her heart was threatening to beat out her chest and maybe run away to god-knows-where, and she has been nursing a lukewarm latte for about thirty minutes now, not daring to take a sip again because the last time she did, she almost vomited it right back out.
"This is the end," Andy muttered under her breath, running a stressed hand through her hair. "This is how my career ends—by a lie that had gone out of control."
She checked her watch for the uptenth time since she got to the cafe. She'd chosen this place because it was tucked away and quiet, and she's grateful for her past self because now, she can have a mental breakdown in peace.
The bell over the door chimed and Andy whipped her head up.
What. The. Fuck.
Walking toward her were two identical redheaded girls who wore matching smirks. But that wasn't what Andy was panicking about. Oh, no—not at all. Sure, she's internally grateful that they had been actual children than serial killers, but that wasn't what her focus right now. Her focus right now was the woman behind them.
Behind them was a woman who looked like she'd stepped directly out of a dream (or a nightmare—depends on whether you're on her good side or not). Short, silver hair perfectly coifed, striking icy-blue eyes, and a coat that most likely cost more than Andy's starting salary.
Andy's jaw almost hit the floor.
What in the seven hells was Miranda Priestly doing here?
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." She whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
This was it. Her career was going to end—right here, right now.
The twins slid in the booth across from her, while Miranda remained standing, arms crossed, and looming over them ominously.
"Andy Sachs, right? I'm Cassidy, this is Caroline—we're the twins you ordered." Cassidy said, grinning while gesturing to her twin.
Andy could barely maintain a smile. Yeah, she was going to die for sure.
"You look even more stressed than that photo we found on google. But I gotta say, it's a good look on you." Caroline piped up.
"Bobbsey," Miranda said quietly, however, she wasn't looking at the twins—because of course not—she just so happened to have her eyes trained on Andy, studying her. "I was told this was supposed to be a meeting to schedule a sleepover with a classmate's parent. Instead, I find a frantic-looking Pulitzer Awardee who looks like she's about two seconds away from having a heart attack."
"Wait, you know me?" Andy blurted out without thinking before her brain kicked into gear a moment too late and she sputtered out, "I mean, Miss Priestly! I—I didn't—they didn't—" she gestured wildly at the twins. "This wasn't—I didn't know they were your children."
"Evidently." Miranda said, her voice dropping into a terrifyingly quiet register. "Now, would someone like to explain why we are here before I decide to leave and take your career with me?"
Andy let out a noise that was between a bit off gasp and a whimper.
"Okay, so—I'm in a bit of a…situation? I told my boss I had a wife and kids at home to get out of drinks and gatherings, and now it's been three years and I kept up the lie—and now there's a gala, and they invited my family so if I don't show up with anyone, my reputation will be ruined and I'll become a social pariah." Andy said, the words spilling out in one breath.
She took a deep breath, looking at the twins who were watching her with pure, unadulterated glee. "The ad was a last resort. I was desperate and your daughters accepted."
Miranda stared at her, and for a long, agonizing minute, the only sound that could be heard was the hiss of the coffee machine by the barista.
"You lied to your editor," Miranda said slowly, her town unreadable. "For three years, because you didn't want to go to happy hour?"
"I didn't mean for it go to this far! The next thing I knew, people were giving me more leeway and I got drunk on the power the lie gave me and before I knew it, it was three years later." Andy defended, a flush creeping up her face.
"Come on, mom, let's help her?" Caroline piped up. "And look at her, she's clearly desperate—it'll be like a charity project or something."
"I am not a charity project!" Andy hissed, then immediately deflating under Miranda's stare. "Okay, fine, maybe I am. Miss Priestly, please—I'll do anything. I'll write your autobiography, I'll—I'll be your gopher for a whole year. I'll give you exclusive information—I'll do anything. Just…one night, please?"
She turned the full force of her puppy eyes and directed it to Miranda. Across her, the twins leaned in, mirroring her expression. Three sets of puppy eyes, all aimed at one woman. Surely Miranda had no room to object now, right?
Miranda looked at the twins. Then Andy, her eyes lingering just a second longer on her face.
"No."
Andy felt her soul leave her body. Yeah, she's so dead. She was pretty sure she could see herself from a bird's-eye view.
"Miss Priestly, please," Andy started again, her voice sounding like it was coming from underwater in her ears. "I am actually begging you. I'll—I'll go down on my knees if need be."
"Andrea," Miranda cut in. "The answer is no, and that's final. Bobbseys, we are leaving. Now."
The twins didn't move at first, and looked at Andy with matching sympathetic expressions. Miranda shot them a look and they reluctantly slid out of the booth.
"Mom, think about it—it could be a networking opportunity!" Cassidy tried one last time as Miranda walked away.
"I am quite sure I already have connections to the guests of the gala, Bobbsey. Now, let's go."
Andy watched helplessly as they walked out, her forehead hitting the table with a dull thud. Oh, her life was so over. her career wouldn't survive the humiliation—she was going to have to move into a remote village in the middle of nowhere and write under a pseudonym. Maybe Whythefuckwasthishappeningtoher. Yeah, that could work.
────۶ৎ────
As Andy walked glumly back to her apartment, intending to drown her sorrows with take out and ice cream, her phone pings.
From: [email protected]
Subject: MISSION NOT ABORTED
Hey Andy!!
Don't jump off a bridge yet. We have a plan—we just checked mom's schedule and guess what? She's literally invited to the gala too! Despite saying she already knew everyone on attendance, she's still going because Runway needs a representative. We'll convince her to bring us and we'll help you from there. We don't think mom knows you were talking about the Mirror's gala, honestly, she's not the best at remembering people, much less professions—so it was a bit of a surprise that she actually remembered you.
We'll text you when we arrive, all you have to do is 'bump' into us. Once she's in the room and surrounded by your colleagues, she won't make a scene—she hates those, so be ready.
Here's our number: 1XXXX-XXX-XXXXX
Love,
Your fake daughters xx
Andy could faint from the relief she felt. She quickly fired a text to the number to make sure the twins also had hers.
Okay, this was going to be fine. She just needs to put on her best begging face and hope that Miranda actually takes pity on her this time.
────۶ৎ────
The night of the gala had Andy wearing a suit that was way over her budget, but she can't be underdressed if she was going to claim Miranda Priestly of all people as her wife.
She looked—objectively—handsome. The tailoring was sharp, her hair was styled in a way that looked messy but in an intentional way, and she had spent about forty-five minutes in front of the mirror nervously adjusting her clothes.
Andy hovered near the drinks, her eyes darting toward the grand entrance—the Miranda and the twins should arrive any minute now. She was about to make her way to the entrance and wait for them as planned but it seems the universe wanted to play with her tonight.
"Andy! Finally!"
She jumped, almost toppling some of the drinks on the table. It was Shane and some other colleagues.
"Where's the elusive Mrs. Sachs?" Shane grinned, looking around. "We've been here for twenty minutes and I haven't seen a single person that looked terrifying—as you put her."
Andy laughed nervously, "Oh, they're just parking right now. They arrived a bit late so a they had to circle around to find a space. The girls also had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction, but nothing too serious—you know how it is."
"I would say I do, but I really don't," Shane laughed, "But I'm dying to meet the woman who keeps Andy Sachs on her toes. I bet she's a total badass."
The circle of colleagues were closing in. They were incessantly asking for names (because, even though Andy was stupid, she wasn't stupid enough to put a fake name for her fake wife), for schools, asking details that Andy was suddenly forgetting the heat of her own panic.
Just as she was about to have a literal meltdown in front of her colleagues, a pair of voices called out.
"Ma!"
The shout was synchronized, high-pitched, and filled with a level of theatrical joy that deserved an Oscar. Before Andy could even blink, two mops of red hair collided with her, small arms wrapping around her waist.
One twin—Caroline, she thought, judging from the way her freckles reached her cheeks—attached herself to Andy's side like a limpet. While Cassidy moved to grab her arm, beaming up at her.
"Ma! You didn't wait for us at the door!" Cassidy said.
"Yeah, Mom was looking for you, she said she's tired of carrying her purse." Caroline chirped, that earned her a couple of chuckles from Andy's colleague.
"Alright, alright—let's go get your mom, yeah?" Andy said, letting the twins usher her to where Miranda was, but not before flashing her colleague a fake-earnest apologetic smile and mouthing a 'sorry'.
When they were far enough, Andy heaved a sigh of relief, "Oh my god, thank you."
"Mom's over there, go intercept her before she gets to make small talk with other people." Caroline whispered.
Andy nodded and walked towards the door, just her luck, she also sees Greg walking towards her. Her eyes darted around the place, desperate to spot a mop of silver hair.
There.
Andy didn't think—she didn't have time to; she just moved. The twins in tow.
"Miranda!" Andy exclaimed, loud enough for Greg to hear. She stepped into Miranda's personal space—a move that would usually result in immediate termination—and put a (trembling) hand on her arm.
Miranda froze, her eyes snapping towards Andy's, flashing with a warning that could have froze hell over. "Andrea. If you don't remove your hand in the next second, I—"
"Please," Andy hissed, leaning in so only Miranda could hear her words. She kept a smile on her face so it would look—from the outside—like she was whispering sweet nothings to Miranda, but her eyes were screaming for help. "Greg is less than five feet away. He's coming over. I'll give you my Pulitzer, my firstborn—I'll be your slave for a decade. Just play along for ten minutes. Please."
"Mom," Cassidy whispered, grabbing Miranda's other hand. "Look at her, she looks like she's going to cry. Please?"
Miranda looked at the twins, then at the man who was approaching them—and finally at Andy and sighed.
"You are a very infuriating woman, Andrea." Miranda murmured, her expression smoothing into something that almost—almost—looked like a fond smile.
Greg finally reached them. "Oh, Andy, is this the wife?"
Miranda turned to look at him, and he froze in place.
Andy held her breath, her heart almost stopping entirely.
However, to her relief (and surprise), Miranda didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into Andy's side, the heat of her body seeping through the silk of her dress. "Aren't you going to introduce me, darling?"
"Oh! I—uh—" Andy stammered, her voice cracking just a tiny bit as she saw Shane and her other colleagues had caught up to them as well. "Everyone, this is…my wife. Miranda."
The silence that followed was so heavy, you could hear a pin drop. Miranda didn't blink, she just rested her hand onto her Andy's chest, and Andy felt like she was about to faint—it didn't help that she could smell Miranda's perfume.
"It's a pleasure," Miranda murmured, though she looked like she'd rather be somewhere else entirely. Andy wrapped a hand around her waist and Miranda tucked herself deeper into Andy's side. "I hope our daughters haven't caused too much of a scene. They've been quite desperate to see their mother all evening."
Greg looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "The Miranda Priestly is your… 'scary' wife?"
Andy tried to subtly shake her head at Greg but it was too little too late. Miranda's eyebrow arched dangerously, and Andy had to swallow back a whimper. "Scary?"
She turned her gaze to Andy, a dangerous glint in her blue eyes. "Is that how you describe me to you friends, darling?"
"I—well—I meant formidable!" Andy squeaked out, her voice climbing higher and higher. "You know, because you're so… brilliant at your job. Passionate, you know?"
Miranda's look didn't falter, but Andy felt the slight pressure of Miranda's nails digging into her chest. "I see. We shall discuss your choice of words later, dear."
Andy had all but spaced out a good minute after that. Internally screaming at herself on what the hell was actually going on right now—completely tuning out whatever Greg was saying.
A sharp elbow to her ribs brought her back to reality.
"Ma, pay attention," Caroline hissed. "Greg asked about the wedding."
"Right! The wedding!" Andy blinked, her brain scrambling to find that entry of script she'd memorized but she was coming up with nothing. "It was…small. Very private."
"It was a small chapel in Andrea's home town," Miranda picked up the conversation without a single beat of hesitation, her voice smooth and confident, leaving no room for skepticism.
"Andrea was very nervous." Miranda feigned an endeared chuckle at the memory, "She nearly tore her script for the vows. It was endearing."
"You guys got married in Cincinnati? No wonder no one picked it up— if it had been in New York it would've made the front page even if you tried keeping it low."
"Mhm, exactly why we opted for it."
Greg leaned in, fully invested now. "And who asked who? I need to know."
"I asked," Miranda and Andy both said in unison.
Miranda turned to look at Andy and arched her eyebrow, "Darling, just because you bought the ring first doesn't mean you asked first."
Andy, seeing where Miranda was going with the scenario immediately jumped in, "I was going to ask, you just beat me to it!" she defended, and almost combusted on the spot when Miranda flashed her a look that felt dangerously close to real fondness.
Miranda simply hummed, "Whatever you say."
"I was!" Oh, Andy was getting into this role perfectly.
"So—why keep it in the down low?" Shane asked, looking between them. "I mean, if my wife was Miranda Priestly, I'd never shut up about it."
"Miranda thinks she's been under the spotlight enough. I'm sure you know she values her privacy." Andy said, gaining a tiny bit of confidence, and the group murmured in agreement.
Greg's eyes suddenly dropped to Miranda's hand on her chest (who was still doing that torturous circles just next to her heart), and Andy felt a cold spike of dread run up her spine. "Wait, Miranda, where's your ring? You're not wearing it?"
Andy heart did a little somersault. God, she had forgotten about that.
"Oh!" Andy laughed, unconsciously squeezing Miranda's waist tighter, the older woman making a noise of—complaint? irritation?—something Andy didn't have enough time to dissect right now. "She took it off as she was getting ready. She said it clashed with the dress."
Miranda—Andy could kiss her right now—didn't miss a beat. She gave a tiny, graceful shrug of her shoulder and said, "Priorities, Greg. My wife still knows I'm married to her."
The conversation drawled on, Miranda answering on their behalf—Andy was, once again, spacing out. This felt unreal, here she was, in her company's 50th anniversary gala with the most formidable woman in the industry pressed against her, and pretending to be her wife. Andy knew she practically cornered her into it but still.
Greg's laugh broke her out of her reverie, "I've never seen Andy so quiet. Usually, she's chattering on about God-knows-what, but tonight she barely said a word."
Andy felt a flush creeping up her neck, heat blooming across her cheeks. She looked at Greg and grinned—a little lopsided and definitely sheepish. "I told you, man. She's the boss—I know when to keep my mouth shut."
Miranda's eyebrow's arched, and she turned her head to meet Andy's gaze. She didn't see it out loud, but Andy's saw her mouth the word.
Oh?
The smirk that followed was pure, unadulterated, seduction. Andy looked away, her face burning, and most probably the same color as the twins' hair, heart thudding painfully against her chest.
Oh, she was in trouble. This woman was dangerous.
────۶ৎ────
By the time Greg and the her other colleagues had finally dispersed to mingle with other people, Andy was practically weak-kneed.
They stood at a quiet corner, and Andy almost fell to her knees thanking Miranda.
"Thank you." Andy breathed, the words barely a whisper. "Seriously. You—I don't even have any words. You literally saved my career. I owe you my life, my soul. My 401k."
Miranda hummed, adjusting the lapels of Andy's suit, still putting up appearances (which makes sense considering the amount of eyes that were on them now). "Hush, Andrea. You're rambling."
Andy wisely kept her mouth shut.
For the next hour or so, the two played the perfect couple. Miranda would lean in, tucking herself into Andy, and Andy would try her best not to look like she was having a nervous breakdown. The twins were…somewhere—last time Andy saw them, they were raiding the dessert station.
"I'm going to grab some drinks," Andy said eventually, feeling like she needed a five-minute break before she had a heart attack and have the gala cancelled mid swing. "Want anything? Wine? Vodka? Whiskey? The blood of your enemies?"
Miranda rewarded her with a twitch of those perfectly painted lips (that she certainly was not looking at, nope), "Nothing for me. Don't take too long." she patted Andy on the arm, trailing her finger lightly down the length of it before pulling away.
Andy stumbled away. She was so fucked, holy shit.
She approached the bar, and ordered champagne, watching the bartender juggle the shakers. She idly looked back to where Miranda was and saw a man approaching her, cornering her against the marble pillar.
Andy frowned, the man looked like he was in the middle of a very passionate pitch about something. Someone trying to get a cover, perhaps? He was closing up on her, and Andy bristled, a protective feeling surging up from her gut.
"Oof. The ex." Greg's spoke up at Andy's side, making her jump. "I didn't know Stephen was on the guest list. You better rescue her. He looks like he's trying to plead his case."
Andy blinked, turning to Greg in bewilderment. "That's her ex?"
Greg looked at her, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion, "Uh, yeah? I know you two are private but, sure he came up once in a while."
Crap. Her and her big mouth.
Andy waved him off dismissively, "You know there has been far too many exes. It would be silly to keep tab on them when there's a reason they're an ex and I'm the current spouse."
Greg snorted, "Fair enough. But seriously, go. She looks two seconds away from flaying him with a butter knife."
Andy didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed her drink and moved towards them. As she got closer, she caught snippets of the conversation.
"—three years, Miranda," He was saying, his voice dropping into a faux-pleading tone. "There hasn't been any headlines—no new paramours. I made a mistake, surely our time together can still account for something?"
Miranda, on the other hand, looked downright murderous. She looked like she was actively contemplating whether or not it was worth it to murder a man in front of approximately 400 guests.
Andy didn't let herself hesitate—she slid next to Miranda and draped a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her flush against her side.
"Hi, sorry I took so long, darling," Andy murmured against her head, her voice dropping into a low, intimate register that even she was impressed about. "The bartender was putting on a show, I got a bit distracted.:
Andy's gaze turned to to Stephen, eyeing him up and down like he was something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. Then, she turned to Miranda again, ignoring Stephen altogether, "Who's your friend, baby? A fan?"
Miranda—to Andy's surprise and relief—didn't smack her for her audacity, if anything, she practically melted against her. Her head tilting back against Andy's shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief second as a quiet hum escaped her throat.
"No one, darling." Miranda murmured, her voice sounding breather than normal. "He was just leaving."
Stephen sputtered, his face turning an unattractive shade of red. "This—this is ridiculous, Miranda. A wife? You? Please, I haven't seen a single headline, no pictures on Page Six, not even a rumor! You're doing this because you knew I'd be in attendance, aren't you? Hiring, some…some child to play a part because you're too prideful to admit that you're lonely."
Andy felt Miranda stiffen against here, the temperature in the room feeling as if it dropped a few degrees.
Andy felt anger bubbling up her chest. How dare this man? She was halfway through opening her mouth and unleash a verbal beating but Miranda beat her to it.
"The fact that you believe my personal life is subject to your surveillance—or the public's—is exactly why you are standing across from me as an ex, Stephen." Miranda said, her voice dropping into that terrifyingly cold register that made the hairs on Andy's arms stand up. "Your lack of discretion was always your most tiring trait. That hasn't changed, I see."
Stephen opened her mouth to retort but never got the chance as two high-pitched voices called out from behind them.
"Ma! Mom!" The twins barelled to their sides and grabbed each of their arms. "Oh my god, you've been talking to boring people for hours, let's eat or something."
Cassidy gasped, her eyes trained on the dessert station, "Oh my god! They just brought out the macarons!"
Caroline was already tugging Andy away, Cassidy following her lead, "Come o-n! Cupcakes, Mom!"
Andy didn't miss a beat. She kept her hand firmly around Miranda's waist and guided her away from Stephen and towards the dessert station. "You heard them, darling—macarons. You know how they get if they don't get their fix of sugar."
Miranda sighed, "They've been staking out the dessert station all night, Andrea. I don't think they need anymore sugar."
Andy simply laughed, watching the twins bounce towards the patries, "Oh, come on, it's just one night."
Miranda could feel Stephen's gaze burning into the back of her head. Clearly watching, waiting for the act to slip. Andy, noticing the gaze, pulled her closer.
"He's really not gonna let us up anytime soon, huh?" Andy murmured against Miranda's ear.
Miranda fought the urge to shiver, and let out a distracted hum, "Afraid not. He's always been…persistent."
"Mom! Please?" Caroline called out, pointing at the macarons, clearly waiting for permission to get some. They knew they've eaten their daily sugar intake but Miranda seemed agreeable right now and hell if they didn't take advantage of that.
"Come on, one macaron each for the night won't do anything." Andy said loud enough for Stephen to hear, playing the loving mother part perfectly.
Miranda caught on instantly, and let out a faux-sigh of exasperation, "Alright, only one each for you Bobsseys."
The twins cheered and rushed to the macaron stand.
"I swear, if they're bouncing through the walls later at the townhouse, I'm not helping you put them to bed." Miranda grumbled.
Andy laughed, "I'll take care of it, don't worry."
She glanced at where Stephen had been, "He's gone."
Miranda sighed in relief as the conversation seemed to have deterred Stephen, somewhat.
The rest of the night was a blur, the two didn't leave each other's side for a second lest Stephen was to come and try and accuse them again. When the gala finally wound down, Andy found herself ushered into the back of a sleek Mercedes. Which, in hindsight, was the best option, it would've been suspicious if they'd lest in separate cars. So here she was, sandwiched in between Miranda and the twins.
The car was silent, everyone taking a moment to breath after the night they'd had. The twins were slumped against each other, finally crashing after their sugar high.
A few moments into the ride, Andy spoke up.
"I don't even know what to say," Andy started. "You guys literally saved me tonight, I know I practically forced you into the role but thank you so much for playing along. If there's anything I can ever do for any of you—anything in my power—just name it. I'm serious."
Miranda looked at her, before leaning forward slightly.
"Anything, you say?" Miranda purred.
Andy swallowed before nodding fervently. "Anything."
Miranda let out a small, huffed breath that might have been a laugh or a sigh before reaching out, her fingers trailing teasingly down the length of Andy's arm like she did earlier, this time, deliberately.
"A date, then." Miranda murmured, the warmth of her hand seeping through Andy's coat as it rested on her forearm.
"I feel as if we've skipped a few steps in this….'marriage', wouldn't you say?"
Andy's heart both almost stopped. She looked at Miranda, disbelief clear in her expression.
"Are—are you serious?"
"You might find, Andrea, that I rarely say things I do not mean."
"A date," Andy breathed, a slow, smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, Okay. I think I can manage that."
The car pulled up to Andy's apartment building and the journalist got out of the car in a daze.
"Andrea." Miranda called out.
"Yes?" Andy automatically turned towards her.
"Friday. 8PM at Lumiere's. Don't be late, I find that I'm much scarier when kept waiting."
Andy nodded frantically, before making a noise of surprised as Miranda reached out and pulled her in by her tie, and pressed a chaste kiss onto her lips.
"See you, then, darling."
Andy couldn't do anything but stand there in a daze, and watched as Miranda flashed her a seductive smile and shut the car door before driving away.
Oh, she was in so much trouble.