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Emily wasn’t lying to Andrea when she told her she had changed. She really was more confident.
And Emily loved that she was. She loved to see her speak up for herself. And she loved the small ways she showed this confidence when they were out in public together. Things like placing a gentle hand on the small of Emily’s back when she wanted to guide her somewhere, moving so that Emily was on the inside of the sidewalk when they were taking a stroll through the city, and even the way she’d just smile knowingly when Emily would make a scornful but usually sarcastic remark. The ease with which Andrea could see through her made Emily feel equal parts terrified and cherished.
Tonight, Emily found herself struggling to fight against Andy's puppy dog eyes and sly smile as they stood in the kitchen. It was a Friday night, and they both were home from work. This week Frank had the kids, so they had no real responsibilities for the weekend. Normally, on a Friday like this, they’d go out and get dinner per Emily’s request.
Emily wasn’t a homebody like Andrea. She liked to go out weekly to some fancy restaurant and dress up. She liked going to random museums and asking Andy questions about each piece. She even enjoyed going to see a movie from time to time as long as it meant she’d be able to get out of the house. But tonight, Andrea was trying her very hardest to convince her that staying in could be just as fulfilling and exciting as their regular Friday night excursions.
She’s not sure where her need to be out all the time came from. Maybe it started when she left Frank. It was hard to be alone in her penthouse when it was his week with the kids. Sitting by herself and trying to pretend she didn’t care about how he treated her in the past was agonizing. She knows he’d never do anything to harm their kids, but the ways in which he hurt her would still plague her mind. So instead of sitting and wallowing, she’d invite a friend to go out and get drinks, go shopping for things she didn’t really need, or simply have dinner.
After their first brunch together, that friend slowly became Andrea. Instead of scrolling through her contacts to see who’d be free, she’d immediately dial Andrea. And then every other Friday suddenly turned into every Friday. When it was Emily’s weekend with Roark and Bronwyn, Andrea would just bring takeout for all of them.
And suddenly it wasn’t just Fridays. She’d find herself coming home from a hard day at work, and Andy would already have let herself into her apartment. She’d walk in and find her sitting on the couch typing away at her laptop, or chasing Roark around playfully like a wild animal, or in discussion with Bronwyn, answering her never-ending questions with so much patience and sincerity that Emily’s heart would melt.
Emily wasn’t stupid; she knew that at that point their agreement to be pals was growing into something a little more than that. So when Andrea finally gave in and kissed her senseless, it didn’t come as much of a shock. After all, it had been 20 years of yearning, denial, and tension on both of their ends. In the words of Nigel when Andy told him about her and Emily, “It was about time.”
Emily sipped her wine and watched as Andy moved messily throughout her kitchen. She was making some sort of Italian dish that Lily taught her to make. She stirred the sauce that was simmering on the stove and grabbed a little with the spatula, carefully bringing it over to Emily. She softly grabbed her chin and placed it to her lips, smiling nervously as Emily tasted it.
“That’s actually quite good.” Emily smiled up at her, pretending to be shocked. A small part of her was. Andrea is incredibly talented in so many areas, but cooking really isn’t one of them.
Andrea smiled in triumph and softly grazed a thumb over Emily’s cheek before pulling away and focusing back on the pots in front of her.
“And you said I couldn’t cook.”
Andy threw her a smile over her shoulder. Emily sipped her wine and lifted an accusatory eyebrow.
“And I stand by that. Being able to cook one dish does not make you a chef.”
A laugh escaped Andrea’s lips, and she threw her head back. Emily’s never really found herself to be all that funny, but Andrea acts like she’s a walking comedian.
Once the food was done, they ate side by side at the dining table Emily insisted they never use because it was more for decoration than anything else. But tonight she didn’t mind. Not when Andrea had cooked her dinner, pulled out her chair for her, and did everything in her power to make this feel special.
Dinner was calm, the type of calm Emily knows Andrea appreciates. They talked about work, about the kids’ recent accomplishments, and about how Emily wanted her to come to England with her at some point. She’s brought her kids many times, obviously to see their grandparents and distant relatives. But now she’d love for Andrea to come along too. It’d only feel right. She could tell that her transparency surprised Andrea, but she agreed happily.
They finished eating, and Emily stood, collecting her plate and silverware so she could bring it to the sink. Suddenly Andrea bounced up as if she remembered something and scrambled to the fridge.
“What’re you doing?”
Emily eyed her suspiciously. Andrea was currently fumbling with something concealed in a plastic container.
Andrea tried her best to act like she was being normal. But Emily knew better. The slight raise of her thick eyebrows and the tug on the corners of her lips gave her away.
“Nothing! Just sit back down for a second and don’t look over here.”
Her voice came out fast and whiny, something that only happened when she didn’t want Emily to complain any further.
So, with a very dramatic sigh, Emily sat down and waited. After the sound of pots clattering and doors opening aggressively, Andrea rushed over and slid a plate in front of Emily.
On it was a slice of tiramisu, Emily’s favorite dessert, and words spelled out in what appeared to be chocolate sauce saying, “I love you.”
Emily felt her jaw drop a little involuntarily. It’s not like they had never said the words before; they had, but only in small moments. Like when one of them thought the other was too asleep to hear it, or during a goodbye when they knew they wouldn’t see each other for a few days, or it’d be mumbled out in a hushed breath among many other words after coming down from the high of a long and passionate night. But they’d never said it directly, not like this.
Andrea and her newfound confidence might just be the death of Emily. She looked down at the plate and then at Andrea, who was now sitting across from her. Emily was blushing and at a loss for words. But Andrea just watched her. Her eyes were wide in that puppy dog way that drove Emily insane. She looked slightly smug at Emily’s reaction to the whole ordeal. And that just made Emily’s blush deepen. So, like any sane person would, she leaned forward and kissed the look right off of Andrea’s face.
She squeaked in surprise but quickly recovered and kissed her back. Her hands grabbed at Emily’s sides, and she gently lifted her onto her lap. (Emily’s not quite sure how or why Andrea’s so strong, but she decided to stop questioning her about it a while ago.) The kiss deepened, and Emily practically melted into her.
The love she felt for Andrea was undeniable. For the past 20 years she’d been married, divorced, and had a few other relationships. But what she felt for them was nothing like this. The feeling of being in love with Andrea was easy; it was simple.
She felt it when they’d make eye contact and all the stress on Andrea’s face would seem to melt away for a few moments. She felt it when she’d watch her interact with Bronwyn and Roark, never once acting like they were a burden or a hindrance to their relationship, like their father and her exes had. She felt it when they had brunch for that first time and Andrea looked past all of the bitterness and envy Emily had felt in Milan and still agreed to be her friend like none of it mattered. And she felt it now as her hands tangled gently through her long brown hair and Andrea kissed her with so much fervor you’d think she’d never be able to do it again.
“I love you too,” Emily muttered against her lips. Andrea smiled, but Emily wanted to make sure the message was loud and clear, so she pulled away from her.
“I love you, Andrea Sachs. And I always have.”
Emily had never been good at voicing her emotions. Usually she’d prefer to hide them underneath snide remarks and that classic deadpan look she gave everyone. But she knows just how much Andrea deserves to know how she really feels for her.
Emily watched as Andrea processed her words. Her already flushed cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson, and a smile so wide she looked a bit cartoonish found its way onto her face.
Emily couldn’t help but laugh at her expression, and at that Andrea kissed her once more to quiet her.
“Okay, no more. Don’t you want to eat dessert?”
Emily playfully pushed Andrea away and tried to leave her lap. But Andrea’s grip didn’t falter. She just wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in closer.
“I think I’d much rather have another type of dessert tonight.” Andrea threw her a little wink and an innocent smile, her hands still firm around Emily’s waist. Emily just shook her head and laughed.
“I think that was the worst one-liner I’ve ever heard.” She tried to argue, but the way she avoided Andrea’s eyes gave her away. Andrea raised a hand and softly guided Emily’s face towards hers, and with a smirk she closed the gap between them.
Emily made a soft noise against her mouth (something that sounded suspiciously close to a moan, but she wouldn’t admit that), and all her thoughts about the tiramisu behind them faded from her mind.
Andrea gently nipped at her bottom lip and pulled away just enough to speak.
“Seems like it worked, though.”
Now Emily actually rolled her eyes.
“Oh, shut up.”
She leaned back in and kissed her harder. She was right, though. And Emily knew that the sweet taste of Andrea’s lips on hers was a thousand times better than any tiramisu she’d ever had. She wasn’t going to miss out on much.