Chapter 11 The Origin and Diversification of Eukaryotes
THE ORIGIN AND DIVERSIFICATION OF EUKARYOTES
*Samantha*
Heat slithered up my chest to my neck and over my cheeks as our eyes locked. He was right. I’d had feelings for him before I proposed a friends-with-benefits relationship. I’d promised “no feelings involved,” but I’d lied.
His eyes dropped first, lowering to my mouth as he pushed the issue. “Were we just friends before Paris? Was there ever anything else between us? Anything you kept to yourself and refused to tell me?”
I had to both swallow and clear my throat before asking, “Why does it matter now?”
“Because I fell in love with you while lying to you, deceiving you and manipulating you, and I wonder if I am the only one.”
I fell in love with you . . .
My heart liked the sound of that, but the rest of me rallied against the words.
The truth was, I didn’t know what to think anymore.
He hadn’t apologized. But he’d gone into massive debt buying the Genetix shares from his brothers, and he’d looked after me and Martin and Joey without wanting us to know, and then he’d been showing up every day since even though I knew he had better things to do.
Did he love me? I had no idea.
But I supposed the real question was, did it matter?
His fist around my wrist began to feel like a brand, so I twisted my arm. He let me go immediately, grabbing a pacifier to replace my fingers and distracting Joey with it before the baby could protest.
Picking up a burp cloth, I wiped the baby slobber from my hand and tried to find my place in the conversation while also struggling to bring my heart rate back to normal.
Eventually, I asked, “Are you suggesting I lied to you, and thus manipulated you into falling in love with me?”
“Did you not? When did you begin to have feelings for me? Was it before or after Thanksgiving? Before or after you said there would be nothing real between us?”
My heart jumped to my throat and I stood, placing my hands on my hips, feeling defensive because his points were valid.
And man, do I hate arguing with someone who made valid points.
“Then when did you start falling for me, huh? Before or after Thanksg—”
“In retrospect? The moment I saw you outside your work back in early November.” Andreas also stood, twisting slowly at the waist and bouncing lightly with his legs, presumably to keep Joey happy while we argued. “But I am not the one who said—”
“Ha!” I lifted an accusatory finger. “Then you lied about ‘no feelings,’ too.”
“The difference is, I never set out to deceive you about falling for you. When you said, ‘no strings,’ I believed you. I have never been in love with someone before you—”
“Well, neither have I before you!” I admitted. Thoughtlessly. Like a moron. Realizing too late what I’d said and that, by shouting, I’d startled the baby.
Joey stilled, looking at me silently for a protracted moment, eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. And then he promptly cried.
I huffed, the shrill sound taking all the fight out of my bones. I didn’t know what I was doing, what I was saying. This entire situation and conversation felt ridiculous. Was I really going to argue with Andreas about this? Try to defend what I did? The choices I made? My cowardice?
Reaching for Joey, I sighed. “I’m sorry, baby. I scared you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I accept your apology,” Andreas said, keeping hold of my godson and turning him around to face his chest. Soothing and cuddling Joey, he gave him several cherishing kisses on his pillowy cheek. Joey calmed down almost at once.
Wanting to seethe, but too tired to do so, I shook my head and exhaled a laugh devoid of humor. “I wasn’t apologizing to you.”
“Too late. I have already accepted it.” Andreas paced away, bouncing Joey and patting his back. “You are forgiven for seducing me and making me fall irrevocably in love with you. But now, you will have to accept the consequences.”
This time when I laughed, it was full of humor. The exhausted kind.
I threw my hands up. “Well then . . . I really do apologize. I’m sorry.”
Rhythmic movements halting, Andreas’s gaze turned searching. “Pardon?”
“I’m sorry. Especially if I pushed you into something you weren’t ready for because I . . . wanted you.”
He frowned, looking extremely perplexed, like he didn’t understand my words or why I’d said them. It was an expression so entirely foreign on his features, I wondered if he’d ever made it before.
I went on. “Yes, I was already starting to have feelings for you before Thanksgiving. As the person with more sexual experience, I should have been more careful and forthright before pushing you for a physical relationship. I shouldn’t have told you it was no strings, no feelings.
I can see that I took advantage because I was too much of a chicken to ask for what I really wanted, and I’m so sorry.
I’m willing to take responsibility for my recklessness and cowardice. ”
Andreas’s confusion warred with his typical mask of calculation, his brain obviously more alert than mine and likely running through moves and countermoves, strategy I had no energy for.
That’s when I felt my lips curve into a small, bitter smile.
Perhaps he did love me, in his own way. I wasn’t quite certain when, over the last few days, I’d accepted Andreas loved me, but I now believed him. He did. It wouldn’t be enough, however. His kind of love was devoid of trust and faith, and so I guess I had my answer to the earlier question.
Would it matter if Andreas was truly, sincerely in love with me? No. It wouldn’t matter.
Looking at him now, I suspected it would never occur to him to apologize like I had just done. To apologize was to take the exposed position, one of vulnerability. He would never, could never, do that.
Joey babbled, breaking through the silence, and we both looked at the baby. The pacifier was long gone, likely somewhere on the floor. He was biting on his fingers, his features pulled in a grimace.
Andreas kept his eyes on Joey, but I got the sense his focus had turned inward because he frowned, his eyebrows pulling together and his gaze slowly dropping without purpose.
Joey made another noise, this time one of frustration and impatience, and Andreas seemed to shake himself, blinking rapidly several times, as though surprised to find the baby in his arms.
“Do you want me to take him?” I asked softly.
Andreas’s stare swung to me, his mouth slightly open as though he would speak. He said nothing. His apparent confusion persisted, giving me the sense that my apology had truly thrown him a curveball he hadn’t anticipated.
The room filled with the soft sounds of Joey’s babbling. I waited, hoping so damn hard that he would take this opportunity to finally apologize, to meet me halfway.
Andreas simply stood there, looking increasingly perplexed—perhaps even angry—with each passing second. His eyes searched mine, but whatever he looked for, he didn’t seem to find it, and this only served to aggravate him more.
I wanted to tell him to stop trying to turn everything between us into a game, to stop looking for weaknesses or an area to exploit for leverage.
I wanted to tell him that, if he genuinely wanted us to have a chance, all he had to do was simply tell me the truth, apologize for hurting me and those around me, and accept the consequences of his actions.
Honesty and contrition without pretext or strategy was the only way we both could win.
He was so damn smart. But faith and trust were clearly concepts he’d never been taught or learned, and definitely never valued.
The door to the suite opened suddenly, shattering the moment. In walked Martin, followed by Kaitlyn’s parents. They were deep in conversation, but Martin stopped mid-sentence when he saw Andreas and me standing on opposite ends of the room staring at each other.
“Is everything okay?” Martin split his attention between us.
Andreas walked over to Martin and handed Joey to him. “Samantha just changed him.”
Kaitlyn’s mom intercepted the baby, snatching him right out of Martin’s hands. “I’ll take him.”
Andreas nodded, then turned to Martin. “I have to . . . I have to go.”
With that, he brushed past them and left the room, the door closing softly. I stood motionless, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. But mostly sadness.
I’d opened myself up. I’d hoped for something more, something real from him. A move with no strategy behind it except honesty. But all I got was silence and a quick exit.
* * *
Kaitlyn’s transfer from the ICU to the VIP suite occurred an hour or so after Andreas’s departure.
The anxiety crushing my chest for the last three days finally lightened enough for me to take a real, unforced breath.
I watched two nurses roll Kaitlyn down the hall, her body cocooned in blankets and her hair in a ratty topknot, and marveled at how, even after all her health troubles, she managed to look like a tired, pale woodland sprite.
Martin trailed behind and I could see he was trying his best not to fuss. His gait, which for three days had been something like a caged-animal shuffle, seemed looser now.
I managed to steal a few minutes with her once she’d settled. Kaitlyn was groggy and not entirely herself, but she was lucid enough to recognize me, grip my hand, and say, “Sam? You look like shit.”
This made me both laugh and cry.
That was when I knew for certain she’d be okay. Seeing her color come back, even in small increments, did something good to my brain. It allowed me to finally entertain the thought of leaving the hospital and returning to the world.
The plan was for me to go home and sleep in my own bed for the first time in days.
Kaitlyn’s parents would take Joey home to Kaitlyn and Martin’s apartment for the evening.
Martin would sleep on the pullout in the VIP suite.
Since Martin and Kaitlyn had each other, and Joey had his grandparents, I had no excuse to keep haunting the hospital.
I hadn’t heard from Andreas since our argument earlier, which was probably for the best. It seemed to me that we’d reached the end of our game and it had resulted in a stalemate. The only move available to him was one he wasn’t willing or didn’t know how to make.
So be it.
Packing my tote bag, I made a last round of the suite to say goodbye. Kaitlyn was asleep, her face slack and peaceful, so I just squeezed her arm and whispered, “See you tomorrow.”
I gave Joey one last kiss and hug, accepted quick embraces from Kaitlyn’s parents, and then met Martin at the door.
He surprised me by pulling me into a full, back-breaking hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” The words came out strangled, which also surprised me.
My first instinct was to deflect with a joke. Martin and I had never truly clicked. I didn’t like how he’d treated Kaitlyn at the beginning of their relationship, and I also didn’t like how quickly she’d forgiven his bad behavior when they did get back together.
But after watching him suffer for the last several days, after leaning on him and encouraging him to lean on me, I knew it was time for me to get over the past. Which, given my track record with grudges and reactionary feelings, felt like a huge leap forward in personal growth.
“Thank you, too,” I finally said, pulling back and giving him a commiserating smile. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if I can do anything. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
With one last nod, I left, closing the door on Kaitlyn and her family. It was time to reenter my own life. Or at least figure out where to start.
Tara waited just outside the door, flanked by the other two guards. They fell into step behind me as I navigated the long hallway out of the VIP area, making me feel, if not important, then at least difficult to assassinate.
As we turned the corner toward the bank of elevators, I caught sight of a figure in the small VIP lounge. Andreas, alone, slouched on a leather chair, staring down at his phone. He looked so different and out of place, I had to check twice to make sure it was really him.
His hair was damp, like he’d just come from the gym or a quick, punishing run.
He wore—of all things—sweatpants. Gray ones.
He also wore a navy blue hoodie and sneakers, more evidence that he’d come here after a run.
The attire made him look much younger, and that’s when my brain reminded me that Andreas Kristiansen was only twenty-six.
For once, he actually looked his age.
I slowed my pace, debating my options. I could walk by and pretend I didn’t see him.
Or, I could walk over and thank him for all his help, and then say goodbye.
Other than Genetix meetings, we wouldn’t have any reason to see each other moving forward.
But as the first and second largest shareholders in Genetix, I reasoned it would do us no good to be enemies.
We could be passing acquaintances. It would be rude to ignore an acquaintance.
And he did help these last few days. Quite a lot . . .
Decided, I turned to Tara. “Can you give us a minute?”
She nodded. “Of course.” Without hesitation, she gestured for the other two guards to follow her down the corridor, past the lounge, and to the bank of elevators where she’d be able to see us but not hear us.
Unless, of course, we ended up shouting at each other. But I didn’t think that would happen. Not this time.