Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
I Need You- Tim McGraw
Her fingers flexed around the glass. The intense emotion choking her chest expanded with each passing moment. She teetered on the edge of a chasm.
Powerful, evolving, growing, inescapable need for the brunette lying in her bed two floors above consumed her.
Her hand trembled around the tumbler.
Miranda had satisfied the want. She had satiated the desire to consume the young woman bodily. The passionate, all consuming physical attraction that tensed and vibrated the very air around them was sated.
But the editor still felt an undeniable pull to be near Andrea. It manifested itself as a painful throb under her ribs.
Miranda shuddered. She refused to feel the ache of need. She refused the vulnerability of the debilitating emotion. She refused to acknowledge the deep hunger that passion could not fill.
Standing in her dimly lit office, nursing an untouched shot of alcohol, Miranda's heart warred with her mind. Staring into the opaque liquor, realization dawned.
This need is mutual.
Desnuda- Ricardo Arjona
Andy would never tire of watching Miranda undress.
The careful attention to detail as each button came undone, as each zipper was pulled down, as each piece of fabric was removed and neatly put away was fascinating. It was almost hypnotic watching the editor's graceful and efficient movements.
The journalist's favorite part by far was not the nakedness that resulted from the removal of the clothes. Though, she did appreciate the austere lines of Miranda's body. She loved the gentle swell of curves. And, Andy was well versed in delineating her lover's aesthetic qualities and physically reveling in those qualities. The sight of the woman in her splendidly naked form made her blood burn with desire. But, what always struck Andy dumb was the transformation that took place with the removal of Miranda's clothes.
With each piece of cloth that was removed, a layer that surrounded Miranda was peeled away. Until, the woman stood before her naked. And, that always took Andy's breath away.
Cat's In the Cradle- Harry Chapin
Caroline and Cassidy had grown up to be just like her.
Miranda was not entirely sure when her daughters had stopped hoping she would make their events. And, she was pained to realize she did not know when they stopped asking her to attend milestones and achievements.
She clearly recalled how her absence had hurt them when they were tiny. Their big, blue eyes would fill with tears as she attempted to appease them with apologies and false promises.
As they grew, their tears dried up. They shrugged and accepted her hectic schedule as part of her life. Their blue eyes hardened with pain and regret when they realized she choose her job over her own children.
She had been inattentive. And, what she could not give her girls in time she made up with gifts.
When she finally had the time to dedicate to her daughters, they were too busy with their own lives.
"I'm sorry I have to cancel my trip out there. My coursework on top of the hours I'm volunteering this semester are keeping really busy right now," the apology was sincere.
"I understand, Bobbsey," Miranda tried to mask her disappointment , "Perhaps this summer will be better."
"Maybe," came the noncommittal response. "I'll let you know. Now, I gotta go mom. I'll talk to you later. Love you."
Before Miranda could reply, the click of a disconnected call sounded in her ear. She slowly pulled the phone from her ear, glaring at the device as if it had committed an unforgivable offense.
Feeling the weight of her success and all the empty years, Miranda despaired at her choice and at the choice her daughters were making. The price was not worth it.
I Won't Give Up- Jason Mraz
"Why?" Cool blue eyes narrowed on the brunette. The question, spoken in the most uninterested tone its master could garner, was ambiguous at best. For all the second assistant knew, her mercurial boss could be asking about the couture that was neatly lined up in her office, the political turmoil in the Middle East, the unexpected downpour wetting the streets of New York City, the color of her nails, or any such number of things great or small.
Brown eyes regarded the unaffected air surrounding the woman. Miranda seemed unbothered if the query was answered or not, but the intensity of blue eyes let the brunette understand the question was anything but rhetorical. Cocking her head slightly to the right, Andy contemplated what Miranda was asking. The editor had been on a warpath all day. Nothing and no one could satisfy her. She had been utterly impatient, overly demanding, and particularly vicious with everyone; Andy included. So, the brunette could only assume Miranda meant why she was still present and attending her. Why she had stayed when she had been given an out several hours prior. Why she was trying to alleviate whatever was putting the editor so on edge.
Andy considered a flippant, humorous response but quickly discarded the idea. Noting Miranda's rigid posture, the young woman realized only an honest reply would be accepted.
"You're worth being patient for," was Andy's careful reply. Wide brown eyes kept steadfast contact with blue saying what the young woman could not formulate with words yet: because I love you.
Miranda had known form the onset that the moment would eventually arrive. Their demise was as sure, as inevitable, as their union. She had hoped it would be in private; where she could fall apart at her leisure and not have to put on a façade.
But as with most of her life, this too was being played out in public. She instantly felt the empty space behind her. The press of the crowd prevented her from turning immediately, but she knew what she would find once she did turn. Time dilated to a crawl as she stopped and wearily turned her head.
The proud, defiant glare leveled at her was unexpected. The editor could not help the flare of admiration that sparked through her at the show of backbone from Andrea. If the stiff muscles of her face had cooperated, she would have offered a small smile at the utterly foolish bravery of the young woman's rebellion.
If only she were that brave, maybe Andrea would not be contemplating walking away. Even at a distance, Miranda could see the indecision, the turmoil warring in the young woman. She was little more than a spectator watching a drama play out; hoping against the unavoidable ending of the tragedy.
She sighed with relief as Andrea walked toward her.
The end would not be today.