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“Honey, can you please  clean the kitchen?” His wife calls from the kitchen.  The man rolls his eyes, leaning forward in his chair to better see the monitor in front of him.  “Babe, I already did. You asked me earlier, remember?” He can hear her frustrated sigh from the other room.  “All you did was put the dirty dishes in the sink to soak.” “Yeah,” he replies. “I cleaned the kitchen.”  Footsteps pound down the hallway until they stop in the doorway. He doesn’t take his focus

The world starts spinning faster once the girls decide they’re in on the plan. In a matter of moments, they are off to school, and Miranda and I are climbing into the back of the towncar.  “Good morning, ladies,” Roy greets us warmly. I shoot him a smile, and Miranda’s only response is a hum before she presses the button that lifts the privacy divider.  In one smooth motion, she pulls out her phone, dials, and holds it against her ear.  “Mr. Reed.” Barely a pause, and then, “

I could get used to this.  I’ve stopped, one red-bottomed heel on the floor of the foyer, the other still on the last step of the stairs.  “I want mine to be a werewolf!” Cassidy demands from the kitchen. Even from here, I can hear her heels hit the marble floor as she bounces up and down.  “Can mine be a mermaid?” Caroline asks.  A low chuckle floats through the halls and strokes down my spine.  “I’ll make you a deal. Today, you’ll have pancakes in the shape of a certain ico

We stand there, in the middle of Miranda’s office, arms wrapped around each other, and I can’t catch my breath.  Sobs wrack my body until I’m sure I won’t have any tears left to cry for the next year, but Miranda doesn’t rush me. Her hands hold me together while I fall apart, stroking my hair and murmuring gentle nonsense against my ear.  My cheeks are as hot from embarrassment as the tears, but I just can’t stop. I suppose the floodgates have been taking damage for months. T

The silence in the room is deafening.  “Excuse me?”  Miranda’s voice is a harsh whisper. She’s stopped her pacing and is staring at me with a storm of emotion on her face.  I keep my face blank.  “I quit,” I repeat, forcing the words to come out clear and past the lump already forming in my throat.  Miranda blinks once. Slowly.  “You did not just say that.” Her voice still hasn’t risen above that whispy, lethal tone. “You have one more chance to take it back, Andrea, or I swe

Dick is late.  Not by a few minutes, or an hour. No, he and his lawyers have kept us waiting nearly the entire day. A meeting that was supposed to be at eight in the morning has been pushed back and back, and I can’t help but wonder if Dick’s master plan is to drive Miranda to murder.  It’s not a bad plan. The potential has been building with every hour the meeting is postponed. Snapping at underlings, requesting one scarf, only to throw it away in disgust an hour later, and

The day is off to an awful start. Just what I need for our first day of work since getting back from Munich.  Lark is late. Her text message, if I’m interpreting the emojis right, says something about a costume emergency with one of the leads for an Off-off-Broadway production she’s working on. If she could draw me a map to where she finds the time, I’d go on that quest. Or if she could just be here with Miranda’s coffee in the next two minutes, that would be great, too.  I g

Out of Order.  The yellow sign on the elevator mocks me and my suitcases.  Seriously? Again? Apparently swanky and shithole apartment buildings are both susceptible to broken elevators.  I look around the entrance hall, willing someone to walk around the corner and take the sign down, declaring the elevator fixed and fit for use.  Nope. It’s still just me and my suitcases.  I’ve done it before, I steel myself, rolling my shoulders and cracking my knuckles. I can do it again. 

I fasten long, silver hoops to dangle from my ears then take a step back, doing one last scan of myself in the mirror.  My hair falls in waves, pinned away from my face by twinkling rhinestone clips, showcasing my carefully applied makeup. A red lip, of course, sparkly silver eyeshadow behind the longest lashes I could manage without looking like a clown, and my favorite part - shimmering highlighter.  I grin as the bathroom lights hit my cheekbones, setting off a cascade of

My stomach’s own grumbling wakes me up.  I roll over, ready to stumble toward the kitchen, and it hits me: the smell.  God! I have to cover my mouth, the stench is so bad I can taste it.  I guess that’s what happens when my airport plans go to hell.   My stomach feels like it’s going to start eating itself, but a shower has to come first. It just has to.  I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and take in the room around me for the first time.  Cream walls, surprisingly modern and colorf

I blink groggily awake, a very weird, uncomfortable sensation filling my body.  I feel like a balloon.  It’s insane! I’ve barely eaten anything all day, only picking at the airplane meals a few bites at a time and giving up when the flight attendants came around for the trash. So why do my pants feel at least a size too tight?  I groan, clutching my stomach, and the ding of an incoming cabin announcement barely breaks through my misery.  “Good morning everyone, we’ll be landi

I grin down at my phone, decisively typing out the last sentence of the chapter. I scroll through the chapter, finding some typos that I fix along the way. Finally, forcing myself not to fall down the overwriting rabbit hole, I hit ‘post,’ and just like that, my thirteenth chapter is available for anyone on AO3 to read. Just in time, too, if the enthusiastic comments are anything to go by. It’s pretty hard to believe that not even two months ago, I hadn’t written a word for m

I start to regret my decision to face this particular storm as soon as the door swings shut behind me.  Miranda stands in the middle of the foyer, her focus intent on her fingers running back and forth across the gold bangle on her wrist.  “I suppose I should read through the latest volume from Miriam-Webster.” Her eyes don’t leave her watch as she makes that baffling statement.  I slip off my thin, soaked shawl and turn to the coat closet.  “Why is that?” I deliver the next

Dark clouds and heavy rain make the shadows in the car feel heavier. That, and the thunderous atmosphere Miranda’s had swirling around her, and me by extension, since she saved me from Christian not even an hour ago.  Not many people would be on the streets in this weather, but if there are a few brave souls, I’ll never know. My gaze, my focus, maybe my entire being is focused on the statue next to me.  She was already settled in her seat by the time I managed to close my doo

“Ooooh someone’s going on a date!” Doug drags the last word out until it’s at least five syllables long.  I roll my eyes. When I look back to the mirror, sliding another bobby pin into my hair, he’s lounging on my bed. Grinning at me. And wiggling his eyebrows.  “First of all,” I say firmly. Or as firmly as I can with a bobby pin between my teeth. I swear, the ballerinas on TikTok make these bun-things look easy. So why do my arms feel like they’re going to fall off? Finally,

“A toast!” Doug stands, actually stands , and raises his third glass of wine.  “Sit down! Oh my god, I can’t believe you.” I meant for it to come out as a hiss, because we really don’t need any more eyes turned our way, but I end up giggling instead. There are plenty of people already turned in their seats, taking in our spectacle. There’s no helping it now.  Doug is blissfully oblivious to it all. He just gestures his drink in my direction, meets my eyes, and continues as if

A month of peace.  Runway  is hectic, but no more so than any normal day. Disasters happen, problems are solved, and another issue is published. All is well in the Queendom.  Well, I still need to talk to Nigel. I think he’s avoiding me.  But other than that, Runway  is good. The rest of life is pretty good, too. Yes, the custody battle is dragging on, but the girls clearly take after their mom - they push through. It helps that Miranda isn’t quiet about what she’s willing to

Don’t. Poke. Your. Eye.  No matter how many times I wield a mascara wand, I’m still convinced something is going to spook me, and I’ll end up stabbing myself in the eye. It wouldn’t take much. A rogue breeze would probably do it.  But I really don’t have time for any mascara wand induced medical disasters today. I have about three minutes to finish getting ready, and then it’s off to the Gala.  With one last stroke, I put the mascara away and straighten, taking in the finishe

Twelve days until the Gala.  Twelve days to memorize all the potential guests, whether they’d RSVP-ed or not, and to make sure Lark memorizes them, too. Just in case.  Twelve days doesn’t feel like nearly enough when I’m also coordinating all the planning for the event.  “No,” I snap into the receiver. “That is not acceptable. How many times has Runway  commissioned you for flowers? And how many times have we told you specifically no freesias ?” I tap my fingers impatiently o

Nearly two weeks later, I put my hand on the doorknob and stumble forward as the door is flung open.  “She’s here!” Cassidy yells, grabbing my hand and hauling me into the townhouse and toward the stairs. Caroline locks the door and scrambles after us. We’re maybe four steps up the stairs when she appears in the doorway to the den. Of course she’s casually devastating. It’s the same thing she was wearing at the office, but unlike me, she still looks as fresh as she did when I