Love Consequences (Season 2 of Nata & Phillip's Romance)

10. I will fix this

Author's Note 2.8.24

Could this be a new chapter? Yes, it could. I'm scheduling this and two more chapters for February (early Valentine's Day present, lol). I'm more or less settled into a routine of editing and writing while my kids are doing their activities (most words are written and edited at various parking lots). Let's hope I can maintain my once weekly postings again!

Back to the story.

For those who have not been here since October (like me...), let me recap what's happened in Love Consequences:

1. Nata was pregnant .... until she was not. She was at Tom's (Phillip's dad) when the miscarriage happened. Phillip persuaded her to stay with him for the next day and skip work. He took her on a date where they learned to make latte art together and then had a feather fight in his room.

2. Phillip visited Dr. Lutz and thought it was about his father, when he found out that Tom was not his biological father. When Phillip went to Tom's house to confront him about it, he found him in bed with Mrs. Buckingham (aka Rachel), their long-time housekeeper. He took Tom's fancy car and, angry at Tom, drove aimlessly around the city before he returned to the duplex.

Let's get back to what's happening to Nata while Phillip had a failed confrontation with Tom.

 ***

Nata

"The management tasked me with investigating what exactly happened and how Ms. Dupont was allowed to administer the doses on her first day." Samson's words are measured and professional as he addresses me from the head of the conference table. "We wouldn't be here if you would've followed my advice and gone with hiring a vetted candidate with a proven pedigree." His expression is somber, but I swear I detect a sparkle of glee in his eye.

Not that old song and dance again. I wish it were just Samson and me. We could talk honestly and openly, but Fiona is here to take notes and provide an unbiased account of what happened when I was not here Monday.

"This is not about whom I hired." I twist my fingers under the table. "If I were here onboarding her like I originally planned, we could've avoided the mistake. I've been very clear to Peter on the phone what he was supposed to show Ms. Dupont. Peter knows the necessary steps. He's been administering the doses when I'm unavailable."

"So the responsibility for Ms. Dupont killing most of your mice is on Peter, who has been an intern here for"—Samson makes a show of rifling through the papers in front of him—"three months?"

"I didn't instruct him to pass that task to Ms. Dupont."

"What were your instructions exactly?"

I wish I left a voicemail I could go back to as evidence, but I was in a state of mind that left little room for remembering the phrasings of my instructions. I know I wouldn't have told Peter to have the new hire administer the meds. Peter was doing it under my supervision multiple times. I have a rigid protocol. No matter. Peter might've misunderstood or I might've said something illogical. I was in shock. Peter was trying to cover for me. "Neither Peter nor Ms. Dupont are to blame." I'm the weak link. I should've been here. "I take full responsibility and will make sure to better document that the samples need additional precautions."

"What I'm hearing you say is that the instructions for the study that you provided are not clear enough for an employee to follow?" Samson jots several lines on the margins of the. He drops the pen with a clack and stretches his lips into an apologetic smile. "That does not look good for you, if you, as a manager, are unable to instruct people in writing."

"I..." The instructions are not the issue here either. This is a new lab and a new process ... I want to shout. At Samson? At the situation? At the unfairness of this thing? If I just were here Monday instead of enjoying myself and hanging out with Phillip. I fist my hands. Rewinding time would be a very useful superpower right now, even if I would've had to relive the miscarriage again. "This is fixable. We can get new animals and restart the study. We already have some learnings, and for this round, I will augment the instructions. I was thinking of maybe spending tonight at the lab and recording—"

"Your lab access has been revoked," Fiona says with pity in her eyes.

"This is not how I wanted to break the news to you." Samson glares at Fiona. "But the management has agreed to put on a paid administrative leave for the next two weeks as I look into what the next steps are for the study."

"And for you," is what he doesn't say. I bite the inside of my cheek. I knew it, I knew it. Why didn't I listen to my brain that has served me so well for over thirty-five years. My heart beats in my neck and ears. Why did I decide that the day my new employee I fought so hard to hire is going to be the right day to listen to Phillip Van der Heuvel? When if ever did Phillip give me good advice? I'm the brains in our partnership. Panic rises up my throat. "So is that what this meeting is about?" I choke out. "I thought we were here to find solutions, not stop the study."

Samson raises his chin and stops hiding the fact that he knows he won this one. "Fiona will assume interim control of your lab under my guidance. We'll have to escort you off this floor, I'm afraid."

I explode out of my chair. Escort? Fumes of anger fill my chest. Like I'm a petty criminal and will steal something? I want to scream, to shove the chair into the table, but I don't want Samson to know how much that hurt me. My tight smile is a much better 'fuck you.' "Can I at least gather my things from my office?"

"I'll get you some empty boxes." Fiona scurries out of her seat and leaves the door open, disappearing behind the doorway.

"You know you can call me anytime," says Samson in a low voice meant just for my ears. He gently touches my elbow. "We can fix this."

"I will fix this." I jerk my arm out of his grasp and speed to my office. The hallways that usually stay empty have people milling around. I catch glances from above the cubicle walls. What are the rumors about what happened? I walk faster, hoping no one decides to stop me and strike a conversation. The scream that was building inside my head throughout the disciplinary meeting takes up a 'sprinter at the start position' in my throat. I slide the door into my office open.

Kate drops her phone on my desk and stands up. "What actually happened?"

I slide the door closed and wrap my arms around myself, as if that would hold me together. She wraps her arms around me too. I bury my face in her shoulder and let go of the scream. It comes out as a whimper. Kate sets her hands on my shoulders and moves me arms' length away. "You want coffee?"

"No. I'm fine." I attempt to step back, but Kate's fingers keep a firm hold on me.

"And that's how I know you are not fine. You always want coffee." She slides the door open.

I slide it back shut. "I'm fine. I got off with basically a slap on the wrist for ruining hundreds of thousands of dollars of research."

Kate slides the door back open and backs me out of my office. "You can tell me everything over coffee."

I reach for my desk. "I need to write up the instructions for the..."

"Will they be using the instructions today?"

"No," I say.

"Tomorrow?"

"They won't be using anything until we figure out how to restart the study and—"

"Exactly. Coffee first. Instructions later." She sneaks her hand through mine and tugs me toward the stairs. "Much later."