Die In California

22

Devyn's POV:

The doctor was a pretty handsome man, I'd say in his late 40s, with grey-white hair that was gelled up into a small quiff, and a small white goatee to match - a less neat Tony Stark beard, if you will. He sat down on his chair and gestured for us to take a seat on the opposite two chairs, pushing his black half-rimmed glasses up his nose. I sat beside JP, anxiously waiting for someone to tell me what the fuck was going on, but everyone seemed to be taking their time. It was as if everyone in the world was in on it, and they were sure enjoying torturing me.

"Welcome, Mrs Cappelletty-" The doctor began. I stuttered, unintentionally interrupting him as I glanced at JP. Well, it was more of a glare...
"I'm not-" JP grabbed my hand and tightly squoze it to stop me from speaking any further. He was telling me to go along with it. I just stared at him, my lips slightly parted and my eyes wide as I tried to wrap my head around whatever alternative universe I was in. What the fuck was happening?

"I'm Doctor Savage, and I'll be walking you through everything today, and hopefully doing the real thing myself. Now, Mr Cappelletty told me that this was going to be a surprise for you." Dr Savage began, briefly looking at his notes. I looked across at JP for reassurance and nodded, my leg back to bouncing as the nerves built up. So we were here for me. But why? He didn't seem like a psych-ward kind of doctor.

"I'm the head of the plastic surgery department," I immediately jumped to conclusions, giving JP an offended look. He thought that I needed plastic surgery to get me back to how I used to be? That motherfucker. How rude.

The two of them seemed to share an inside joke though as they gave each other an amused smile, before Dr Savage continued. "Now, I don't know your full story because I'm not here to invade your privacy like that. But I am here to give you back something that you're missing. And that's why you're here, today. You're here for potential breast reconstruction."

My heart stopped as soon as he said those last two words. Breast reconstruction. It seemed that when he said that, everything began to fall into place. I wasn't completely myself because a piece of me was missing, and JP was giving me that piece back. How did he even think of this?!

Then my mind wandered back to the club in New York.
"Because of fucking boobs." I yelled, watching JP's hand travel around the blonde's body. He used to do that to me. He used to love holding my boobs, even in a non-sexual way. His hand would always be there. Or on my ass.
But now he's touching hers.
And no one can touch mine.

My shout must've gotten JP's attention, because he finally pulled away from the doll to look at me with a confused, slightly concerned frown. But all I could do was stare and envy her. She had everything I didn't. She was more of a woman than me. And it killed me.

It really did kill me, more than I'd like to admit. Every woman I walked past had something to flaunt, and then there was me. I wore baggy clothes that would hide what I didn't have, and I wouldn't even think about stepping into another dress. But I'd had to learn to accept that I could never afford a proper boob job, and that I'd never be back to how I used to look.
But now JP has given me the opportunity to.

The cost, though. I knew how expensive it could be, and I couldn't bare JP spending all that money on me. I looked across at him hopelessly, battling with myself in my mind. No matter how much I wanted it, I couldn't accept it; it was too much money. "I appreciate this, JP, but I- I can't." I slowly shook my head, still struggling to process it.

JP looked at me, his brows pulling together into a confused frown as he tried not to let his disappointment, and slight hurt, show. "Why not? This is what you've always wanted." He sounded like I'd broken his heart all over again. He might as well have grabbed my heart in his hands and crushed it at that point.