Chapter eight – I wanna meet my son/Daddy!

"Stop looking at her!"

I turn around hearing Derek's voice – and I throw him my best death glare. He has to stop with his annoying remarks and name calling.

"Why? She's my wife! We were married, you know? Go look for your own wife." Mark always has an answer to Derek's comments, but they're almost always as annoying as his friend's – ex-friend – words.

"Stop it!" I slam my chart on the nurses station's counter. "Mark, stop looking at me! Dr. Shepherd, go away."

When he leaves, whining, I finally turn towards my husband or whatever he is. "What do you want from me?"

"First of all, I want to know if you kept my kid."

I feel something in my throat preventing me to speak.

Mark does one step forward.

"Second, I want to meet my son or daughter."

I clear my throat, struggling to keep my eyes on his face. I read his lips as he talks.

"Son."

He nods his head, numb.

"Good. I wanna meet my son."

xxx

"Dennison?" I smile at my baby boy when he looks up from his toys, taking a seat in front of him on the floor. "Honey, do you remember when you asked me if you had a Dad?"

He nods, staring at me in silence.

"And do you remember what I told you?"

Again, Denny gives me a nod. Steadier this time. "You said that he loved me but lived far away from here so he couldn't be with me."

"Yeah kiddo, that's what I said." I run my finger along my son's cheeks, thinking of how handsome he is. How much he looks like Mark. His father. "He is here now."

Denny's eyes light up as he hears that, he jumps on his feet happily. His face is full of joy, giving me warmth.

"Can I meet him, Mom?"

"Yeah honey, you can if you want to."

"I want to Mommy! Please."

"Okay then." I stand up and take his little hand in mine, walking towards the stairs. "He's downstairs, okay buddy? He's waiting for you, but if you don't feel comfortable you have to tell Mommy."

He stops right before opening the living room door. "Will you come in with me?" he seems scared, worried. I hold his hand even tighter.

"Of course."

Denny and Mark stare at each other in awe, taking in all they can about the other. Finally, slowly, Dennison makes a step forward and reaches out for his father; Mark opens his arms and our son lets him hold him. "Hi Daddy. I really wanted to meet you. You're a very perfect birthday present."

Mark looks up at me, a question in his light eyes. I smile. "He'll be eight next Sunday."

"Oh. Well, I guess you like your present then?"

"Yes Daddy. Thank you."

"Anytime buddy." Mark whispers as he continues to rock him.