December 10, 2008. 2: 32 PM; EST.

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Greg sat awkwardly in a doctor's office seat and for the second time in his life he found himself waiting to hear something about Jamie. He remembered the last time—before she'd even been born and he'd had to drag Tess to a doctor to ensure that the pregnancy was going safely. This time, unfortunately, was also Greg's fault.

It was bad enough that he'd been the one that had dropped Jamie from his shoulders, onto concrete, and given her a concussion—no—of all of the people in the world he had to be sitting in the waiting room with Mitchell.

"What exactly do you have to say for yourself?" Mitchell asked, imposingly larger than Greg. "And what are you going to do to make up for this, boy?"

"It's Greg," Greg corrected the man, having never felt like being so rude to anyone before in his life. "Not boy. And I'll do whatever I have to to make it up to Tess and Jamie."

"I doubt that," the older man said. He cleared his throat and looked at Greg very seriously. "It's obvious that it's in Jocelyn's best interest if you stay out of her life. You and I both know that Tessa doesn't have the best judgment about these things."

"Excuse me?" Greg asked, seething.

"Well Tessa left her eight year old daughter in the hands of a complete stranger," Mitchell said in a tone that made it hard for Greg to tell if the man was just being arrogant or if he really wanted to infuriate Greg. "And look what happens? You're the reason Jocelyn is in the hospital!"

"Jamie" Greg corrected Mitchell, too angry to formulate any other response to anything else the older man had said.

"Her name is Jocelyn," Mitchell said, as though Greg didn't know. "Jamie is just some silly nickname I don't prefer to use for my daughter."

"I know her name is Jocelyn," Greg stated hotly. He looked around the room for Tess hoping she would arrive before he completely lost his cool with Mitchell. How Tess managed to make a baby with this man was completely beyond Greg. He looked the older man in the eye squarely and decided to finish his sentence as pointedly as possible. "I picked that name."

Before either man had any more time to berate the other a nurse appeared in front of them holding a clip board. "Which of you is Jamie's father?"

"I am," Mitchell piped up, standing to speak with her.

"Would you mind answering a few questions?" the nurse asked as Greg stood to be sure that Mitchell didn't get anything wrong.

"Sure," Mitchell said, oddly agreeably. "What do you need to know?"

"What's Jamie's last name?"

"Harlow," he answered. "Anything else?"

"Just a few more questions," she informed him patiently. "Can you tell me her middle name?"

"Uhh," Mitchell started, scrubbing his hands over his head.

"Middle initial?"

"Um," he said. After a moment's thought he guessed, "K?"

"A," Greg chimed in, frustrated. "Her middle name is Amy."

"Is she allergic to anything?"

"No," Mitchell said with authority. "Well, strawberries."

"No she isn't," Greg corrected him. "She's allergic to penicillin, peanuts, and latex. She's not in any way allergic to berries."

"Who are you exactly?" The nurse asked Greg, obviously a little confused. "And are you sure?"

"Positive," Greg told her. "You need anything else?"

"No, you're free to go in," she gestured to the door. "She seems worried about you. She's a good kid, that one."

"She is," Greg agreed.

He was about to push his way through the door to go visit with Jamie when he noticed Tess coming through the door into the hospital waiting room. The moment he noticed her it seemed Mitchell also did. They heard a booming angry voice demand, "it's about time!"

"Mitchell," Tess said in a warning tone. "I don't want to hear it. Where's my daughter?"

"She's in the back," Mitchell said, his tone thick and angry. "Thanks to your friend."

"Excuse me," Tess said, stopping to look Mitchell squarely in the eye. "You will not blame this on me nor on my friend. It was an accident, and I won't listen to this."

"So you're just going to let him get away with hurting our daughter?" Mitchell asked, growing even more agitated. "Because I don't intend to."

"Tess," Greg interjected, trying to both calm her and in the same instant pleading for forgiveness. "I don't even know what to say, I'm sorry."

"You," Tess snarled in Greg's direction. "Are off the hook if you get him out of my face."