Chapter 6 The Last Universal Common Ancestor
THE LAST UNIVERSAL COMMON ANCESTOR
*Samantha*
By the following Thursday, my new office was no longer empty, but it was nowhere close to organized.
I didn’t understand how I’d been able to fit so much in my small cubicle.
My filing system consisted of teetering piles that I arranged based on how much dismay their contents inspired.
I’d also taken to stockpiling small snacks and caffeine sources in random drawers.
I told myself that the hoarding was in case of a sudden lockdown.
The real reason was I enjoyed finding yummy surprises whenever I opened a drawer, even if I’d been the one to leave them there.
It was just after 3:00 PM and I’d decided to leave early. Yes. Again. Kaitlyn needed me, and even if I hadn’t been caught up with all my work—actually, I was ahead—I would’ve left early to help her.
The dedicated lab space had been a dream.
I’d made more progress on my dissertation in one week than I had during the entirety of the fall semester.
And the quiet of my own office had increased my word count and productivity tenfold.
Dmitry had promised to cover any of my physical presence requirements at meetings for the rest of the day, provided I brought him a black-and-white cookie tomorrow.
I was just closing up my laptop when my phone buzzed with a message from Nakita. The preview read, “Diya told me to message you about this before I do anything. I just got a call from Andreas—”
My stomach clenched and I unlocked the phone and read the rest.
Nakita: Diya told me to message you about this before I do anything. I just got a call from Andreas and he wants to meet for coffee. Diya said I should ask you first if it’s okay for me to go or if I should turn him down. Let me know what you want me to do!
The full text was so textbook Nakita that I could picture her pacing her bedroom, aggressively talking to herself while typing with both thumbs.
I texted back almost immediately in a flare of vindictiveness. Not against Nakita, but against Andreas.
Sam: Thank you for asking. Go ahead. Have fun.
I pressed send, then stood at the window for a moment, watching the traffic below, somewhat surprised at my lack of immediate, vengeful satisfaction. If I were a better person, I might’ve tried to stop Nakita from meeting with Andreas. But, alas, I was not.
Petty queen, wear that crown.
My phone buzzed again, but this time it was a call, not a text. Diya’s name flashed on the screen.
I picked up, cradling the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I zipped my backpack. “Hello?”
“Did Nakita text you?” Diya sounded energized. Or maybe rushed?
“Yes. Just now, actually. She also told me that you were the one who asked her to text me. Thank you for that.” I paused to stuff a protein bar into the side pocket of my bag.
“May I ask, what did you tell her to do?” Diya’s tone became measured.
“I told her she could do whatever she wished.”
I heard Diya gasp before she asked, “Did you really?”
I toyed with my zipper. “Listen, Andreas is the one who will suffer here if he meets with Nakita or tries to draw her into his schemes. His request will end up plastered all over online fandom sites and documented—with dramatic flourish—in her latest fanfic.”
Diya huffed a laugh. “You’re diabolical.”
I felt my hackles rise at the label. “If he wants to keep playing games and trying to manipulate the people around me, then this is what he gets.”
“Sam, this is a guy who seems to protect his privacy like it’s Fort Knox and you’re sending him out to a coffee meet-up with Nakita? His biggest fan? While he’s emotionally unstable?”
My temper spiked.
Last weekend, I’d texted Diya in a moment of weakness and asked her to come over.
It was one of the few nights I hadn’t needed to sleep at Kaitlyn’s.
Diya and I sat together on the floor of my apartment—I still didn’t have any furniture except a mattress—and picked apart the entire Andreas situation, start to finish.
We’d also dissected what Dmitry had told me about Andreas confessing his supposed feelings for me.
How he’d said he was madly in love with me but didn’t think I’d ever forgive him.
Diya had been pragmatic and diplomatic, but she’d ultimately agreed with my conclusions.
If Andreas wanted my forgiveness, he should ask for it directly.
Not use my friend Dmitry as a means to reenter my life.
However, she’d also suggested that Andreas’s reasons for meeting with Dmitry might’ve been sincere. I did not agree.
“He’s not, nor has he ever been, emotionally unstable.
This—pretending to have real feelings for me—is an act.
It’s all a ruse! And if he actually wanted me to be in his life again—which he doesn’t, not really—I’m not the one who can’t apologize.
I apologized to you and Kendra and Nakita the very first time we met after the holiday break.
Same with Dmitry, I apologized and I explained and I asked for forgiveness.
That’s what you do when someone is important to you.
” Realizing I was now angrily fidgeting with my zipper, I released it and crossed an arm over my middle.
Diya went quiet for a moment, but then said, “Playing devil’s advocate here, but you’ve blocked his number. He can’t call you. And didn’t Tara keep him from talking to you last week? How is he supposed to apologize if he can’t contact you?”
“He’s a freaking genius who figured out all my favorite things when we were living together, things I didn’t even know I wanted.
He sent me magical perfume, discovered I loved kombucha before I did, and bought me a closet full of clothes that were exactly my preference, in shades and styles that flattered my body and coloring perfectly.
And you’re telling me this genius baby-man can’t figure out how to freaking apologize? Is that what you’re saying?”
Diya’s voice softened. “What would you say if he—”
I cut her off. “Listen, I’ll see him next week at the shareholder meeting.
He could try to apologize then. It’s been on the calendar for months.
But you know what, if he’s supposedly ‘madly in love with me,’ then he should’ve thought about all this before he used Dr. Hauser’s funding to manipulate me.
Or, at the very least—at the very, very, very least—he should’ve apologized in Paris!
He should’ve made more of an effort before now! ” I finished with a whisper-shout.
Diya made a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry. Remind me never to make you mad.”
I barely heard her, my blood pressure had skyrocketed and I was now seeing red.
“And technically, I’m not doing anything to him.
I didn’t give Nakita his number, I didn’t tell Nakita anything but the basic information she could already read in the news.
I protected him and his precious privacy even after he screwed me over!
And what does he do? He knows she’s a superfan, and he seeks her out anyway. If he suffers, he did it to himself.”
“Okay, subject change only because I’m short on time right now—I have another fifteen minutes before my break is over—but we should pick up this conversation topic later for sure. First, where are you sleeping tonight? Should I come to your place?”
Sighing as I mentally downshifted from rage rant to mild-mannered conversation, I picked up my backpack from my chair and set it on my desk. “Thank you so much for the offer, but I’ll be at Kaitlyn’s again tonight.”
“You’ve been sleeping there on and off for over a week. What’s going on? Is Kaitlyn still experiencing the same weird fever?”
I hesitated, not sure how to describe what was happening since I wasn’t a doctor.
“Yes, I think so. Martin doesn’t believe the antibiotics are working.
She’s going back to urgent care today to get new ones.
Martin is back in town and going with her, thank goodness.
He’s really worried. So, I’m on baby duty tonight. ”
“Poor you.”
I felt the corners of my mouth tug upward. “Yeah, I know. My godson is so damn cute, I’m constantly snacking on his cheeks.”
“Well, tell Kaitlyn if she needs anything to give me a call.” Diya’s smile was audible.
I stepped around a stack of folders on the floor, hunting for my work keys. “Will do. And thank you again for the sleepover offer.”
Diya hummed, then said, “Wait! I’m actually calling for another reason.”
Abandoning my search for the keys, I paced over to the fake plant Dmitry had gifted me last week. I’d put it on a shelf. It didn’t need sunlight, so it didn’t care. “What’s that?”
“Do you know how you asked me to look into your father’s death certificate? And I had you sign the necessary release forms for his medical records?”
I’d asked Diya to look into my father’s death certificate because something about it didn’t add up.
I’d been told my father died after falling down a flight of stairs, but the death certificate had listed the cause of death as a heart attack.
This seemed strange to me. Late last week, I’d signed every highlighted page Diya had emailed over.
She’d explained that to get my dad’s medical records from fifteen years ago, she needed me to sign as his surviving family member.
Technically, since the adoption by Andreas, I was no longer considered my father’s legal daughter.
I was an “unrelated party” in the eyes of the law, but I signed the release forms anyway.
I really wanted to see those records, and I doubted anyone at the hospital would check whether I’d been adopted by a sexy strategic mastermind two years my junior.
Of course, this was a gamble. Since my name had been all over the news after Christmas, there existed a chance that someone would know I’d been adopted and no longer had the right to request the records.