A/N: Here we are, doing Boston again there are several things that differ between the movie and the show. here They live in Boston instead of Beverly Hills. Emma has two kids but they are much closer in age. and they both belong to NEIL. She is presumed straight. Not closeted, but Dr. Mills never asked.I hope you enjoy this. ~S.K.

Present Day Boston

I woke up naked and satisfied in a strange new place. My eyes were fixated on a lone speck of dust illuminated by a shaft of sunlight streaming through the skylight. Surveying the messy, sunlit boho-style studio apartment, our clothes scattered haphazardly, I spotted my lacy undergarments artfully draped over a lamp, and my matching bra adorning the handle of a pot near the stove.

Gently extricating myself from the tangle of sheets, I cast a glance at the beautiful brown-skinned woman sprawled on the bed. Biting my lower lip, I tiptoed toward my panties and bra. Grabbing the slacks from the day before, I draped my blouse over myself and headed toward the cluttered desk.

The desk, a chaotic tableau of notebooks, and a sleeping MacBook caught my attention. As I began to pen a note expressing gratitude for the night, the realization hit me. The unused wedding ring had become my ticket to pleasure, a talisman that lured individuals into taking care of my needs—physically, spiritually, and beyond. It was a game of desire, a dance of manipulation that satisfied my primal urges.

Dressing swiftly, I navigated through the woman's apartment, catching a glimpse of my transformed self in the mirror. The schnoz was gone, replaced by a perfectly sized nose that harmonized with my features. The enhanced bosom exuded confidence and allure. My plastic surgeon had delivered beyond expectations, and I reveled in the results.

Opting for a career as a plastic surgeon instead of a cardiologist, I acknowledged the allure of wealth. In my world, money equaled attractiveness, and I played the game masterfully.

Heading out of the door, I rushed home to prepare for the day ahead. Upon reaching my brownstone, I grabbed my phone to inform my assistant, Emma, about the delay.

"Hey, Emma, I'm running a bit late. Can you push my eight o'clock?" I typed.

Her quick-witted response came promptly. "What am I, an amateur? I pushed it the moment Ruby waltzed in here yesterday."

Laughing, I replied, "Thanks, Em."

"You have 'til 9."

"You're the best," I sent, turning to finish styling my hair. I had embraced the sleek look, discarding the girlish curls I once had, thanks to Mother's wisdom.

Arriving at the office, Emma, with her dorky glasses perched on her perky nose, kept me on track. My envy for her naturally perfect nose lingered as a reminder of the lengths I went to sculpt my own version of beauty.

But she was the greatest assistant I could ask for. I overheard her interaction with the delivery man at the front desk that afternoon. "What are these?"

"Boobie bags," the delivery man, a short, bearded little drunk, said. I could imagine Emma's face as the idiot continued, "you know, the things that women get put in their chest to make—"

"These are not the implants I ordered!" She interrupted in frustration. "These...don't feel like these." This was when I rounded the corner and witnessed the delivery man attempting to cop a feel of my assistant's chest. Emma pushed his face back and kept him at arm's length.

"Hey, I'm just trying to learn."

"Dr. Mills will not accept subpar implants, Leroy. Take these back and get me what I ordered. And tell Andrew I want a discount for my inconvenience, please."

She said as I stopped by the desk, hands in my lab coat pocket. "'Em, is my four o'clock here?"

"Yeah, room one, Mary Margaret Blanchard…. Don't laugh," she said, following me to the room.

I assessed the woman's botched surgery and stepped out of the room. Keep a straight face? Impossible. Glancing at Emma, who was giggling behind me, I let out a few chuckles and put on my compassionate face. I let Emma walk in first since she composed herself faster, then I entered and stood back to take in the entire picture.

Mary Margaret was, in fact, quite beautiful. Fashion sense aside, the shape of her face and her nose were perfect. What marred her features was a facelift gone awry, resulting in an uneven lift. One eyebrow arched higher than the other, giving her a perpetually comical and inquisitive look.

"I had a bad surgical experience," the fair brunette said. "I should've known he was a quack. The office was in his house."

"I see..." I said, looking down at her file to stifle a laugh. I looked up and saw the inquiry in her brow. Without thinking, I asked, "question?"

Emma took a deep breath and held it to keep from laughing behind the file she was holding. "Oh no, no, just please, help me, doctor."

I nodded. "Absolutely," I moved closer to the patient, examining the surgical lines and corrections needed. "It's easier to do these things right the first time, but..." the patient's expression changed, and I reacted. "What? You seem dubious."

I know, I shouldn't have said that. Emma's guarded breath let out in a light snicker, and I reveled a little because I loved making her laugh.

"No!" Mary Margaret denied, "I know you are the best doctor, Mills. "

"Well, I don't know about that, but I think we can figure something out here…"

I placed my gloved hand on the higher brow and shifted it so that it could sit normally. But the moment I let go, it popped right up again, and Emma lost it. She walked out of the room. I glanced at my assistant, who left, then looked back at the patient. "Well, that was rude," I mumbled.

"It's OK, I know what I look like. I just don't want to look like this anymore. Can you fix it?"

" I can certainly try," I answered with my warmest smile.

Mary Margaret and I walked out of the consultation room. We had an appointment set for the surgery, and I would be helping this woman out. As Emma began to put the surgery on my schedule, the door to my office opened. "Dingdong!"

"Ruby's here," Emma said, a little annoyance in her tone.

"Hey, it's My best friend Ruby!" I said to Mary Margaret as we walked out to the lobby.

Ruby took a look at Mary Margaret and Paused. "Whoa! eyebrows gone wild there!" Mary Margaret paused and furrowed her uneven brows. But Ruby, ever the charmer, smiled at the insecure woman. "I am actually digging it and what are you doing later?"

Mary Margaret was flattered and blushed prettily. "Oh sorry... I'm… I'm straight " she stated.

"Well, he is never going to be as gorgeous as me," Ruby said, signaling to the long thin frame.

"Oh my god, Ruby, " Emma said, rolling her eyes.

"No, it's a nice body," I said putting my two cents in. "I worked hard on it. Looks really good."

"Oh!" Mary Margaret said, looking Ruby over. "You had work done? To look so natural. I knew you were the right doctor for me, Dr. Mills."

Mary Margaret left my office with a happy smile, and Ruby turned to me, livid. "Gee, why are you telling everyone about my surgery?"

I realized that it was the fact that I'd said it in front of Emma that was the problem. "I didn't know it was a secret. You do realize that Emma already knows about your surgery? She was there in the room when I did it. She was holding the fat bag."

"And the implants," Emma added.

"So, now that the bandages are off, have you taken the new bod for a test run yet?" I asked my friend.

My childhood friend blushed. "Yeah, almost nightly." She paused, "But my hand is getting tired though."

"Oh my God," Emma groaned, rolling her eyes and going back to work.

I laughed and invited Ruby out to a party at a Boston Common penthouse.