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he didn’t appear particularly daunted by the information。 The only
thing I knew for sure was that I’d spent way too long chatting on
the phone； a fact confirmed by a quick glance at my watch。 It had
been thirty…two minutes since I’d left the office； longer than the
time it usually took me to get lunch and e back。
I stashed the phone and realized I had already made it to the
restaurant。 I pulled open the lumbering wooden door and stepped into
the hushed； darkened dining room。 Even though every table was filled
with midtown bankers and lawyers gnawing on their favorite steaks；
there was barely any noise at all； as if the plush carpeting and
manly color scheme just absorbed all the sound。
“Andrea！” I heard Sebastian cry from the hostess stand。 He beelined
toward me as though I might be holding the last of a life…saving
medication。 “We’re just all so glad you’re here！” Two young girls in
crisp gray skirt suits nodded seriously behind him。
“Oh； really？ Why is that？” I could never help myself toying with
Sebastian； just a little。 He was such an unbelievable kiss…ass。
He leaned over conspiratorially； his excitement palpable。 “Well； you
know how the entire staff here at Smith and Wollensky feels about
Ms。 Priestly； don’t you？Runway is such a gorgeous magazine； what
with all the beautiful shoots and stunning style and； of course；
fascinating； literate articles。 We all just adore it！”
“Literate articles； huh？” I asked； suppressing the huge smile that
was threatening to emerge。 He nodded proudly and turned as one of
the suited helpers tapped him on the shoulder to hand him a tote
bag。
He literally cried out in joy。 “Ah…hah！ Here we have it； one
perfectly prepared lunch for one perfect editor—and one perfect
assistant；” he added while winking at me。
“Thank you； Sebastian； we both appreciate it。” I opened the natural
cotton tote； a bag that looked just like thoseüber …cool ones from
the Strand that all the NYU students slung over their shoulder； but
without the logo； and made sure everything was right。
One…and…a…quarter…pound ribeye； bleeding all over the container； so
raw it just might not have been cooked at all。 Check。 Two baked
potatoes the size of small kittens； each steaming hot。 Check。 One
small side container of smashed potatoes； made soft with lots of
heavy cream and extra butter。 Check。 Precisely eight perfect stalks
of asparagus with the tips looking plump and juicy and the ends
shaved to a clean； white finish。 Check。 There was also a metal gravy
boat full of softened butter； a pinch…box overflowing with grainy
kosher salt； a wooden…handled steak knife； and a crisp white linen
napkin； which today was folded into the shape of a pleated skirt。
How adorable。 Sebastian waited to see if I liked it。
“Very nice； Sebastian；” I said as though I were praising a puppy for
going number two outside。 “You really outdid yourself today。”
He beamed and then looked at the ground in practiced humility。
“Well； thank you。 You know how I feel about Ms。 Priestly； and； well；
it’s really an honor to； well； you know 。 。 。”
“Prepare her lunch？” I supplied； helpfully。
“Well； yes。 Exactly。 You know what I mean。”
“Yes； of course I do； Sebastian。 She’ll love it； I’m sure。” I didn’t
have the heart to tell him that I immediately unfolded all of his
creations because the Ms。 Priestly he so adored would throw a hissy
fit if faced with a napkin in the shape of anything other than a
napkin—never mind a bowling bag or a high…heeled shoe。 I tucked the
bag under my arm and turned to leave； but just then my phone rang。
Sebastian looked at me expectantly； fervently hoping that the voice
on the other line of my Cell Phone would be his love； his reason for
living。 He wasn’t let down。
“Is this Emily？ Emily； is that you； I can barely hear you！”
Miranda’s voice came over the line in a shrill； angry staccato。
“Hello； Miranda。 Yes； this is Andrea。” I stated calmly while
Sebastian visibly swooned at the sound of her name。
“Are you preparing my lunch yourself； Andrea？ Because according to
my clock； I asked for it thirty…five minutes ago。 I cannot think of
a single reason why—if you were doing your job properly—my lunch
would not be at my desk yet。 Can you？”
She got my name right！ A small success； but no time to celebrate。
“Uh； um； well； I’m very sorry it’s taken so long； but there was a
little mix…up with—”
“You do know just how uninterested I am in such details； do you
not？”
“Yes； of course I understand； and it won’t be long before—”
“I am calling to tell you that I want my lunch； and I want itnow 。
There’s really not much room for nuance； Emily。 I。 Want。 My。 Lunch。
Now！” With that； she hung up the phone； and my hands were shaking so
badly I dropped my cell on the floor。 It might as well have been
covered in burning arsenic。
Sebastian； who looked ready to pass out from the action； swooped
down to retrieve the phone and hand it back to me。
“Is she upset with us； Andrea？ I hope she doesn’t think we let her
down！ Does she？ Does she think that？” His mouth pursed into a tight
oval and the already prominent veins in his forehead pulsed； and I
wanted to hate him as much as I hated her； but I just felt sorry for
him。 Why did this man； this man who seemed remarkable only to the
extent that he was so unremarkable； why did he care so much about
Miranda Priestly？ Why was he so invested in pleasing her； impressing
her； providing for her？ Perhaps he should take over my job； I
thought； because I was going to quit。 Yes； that was it。 I was going
to march back to that office and quit。 Who needed her shit？ What
gave her the right to talk to me； to anyone； like that？ The