It's been a couple of weird, amazing days.

I almost married Chandler in Vegas. We were about thirty seconds from walking down the aisle.

If Ross and Rachel hadn't burst out of that chapel just before us, I'd be Mrs. Bing right now.

That's an…interesting thought.

Mrs. Bing.

Oddly, seeing our friends that hammered was the most sobering thing that could have possibly happened to us.

So, I'm not Mrs. Bing. For now. But for the first time in our relationship, I feel like marriage could be a real thing for us. One day he might be able to think about it without having a panic attack.

But what's made this whole debacle completely amazing—Chandler wants to live with me.

I haven't been able to wipe the smile off my face for hours. Even when he was locked out I couldn't help but smile. Even after Joey broke down my door, I smiled.

Huh…I guess it's our door now.

I feel my smile grow even larger. Oh, my God, our door.

This is going to be our apartment. I'm going to live here with my boyfriend.

I'm so excited about this that I don't know what do with myself. I have to admit, though, that no one was more surprised than me to realize that I wasn't ready to get married. I didn't really expect that. Everyone always teases me about being obsessed with marriage and babies, and I suppose that even I assumed I would run down the aisle.

I guess I'm more pragmatic than anyone ever thought. Chandler and I have only been dating for a year; I know that's long enough for some people, but apparently not for me. I want to spend more time with him, especially because we spent so many months in hiding. We haven't had a whole lot of time just to be boyfriend/girlfriend. I'd like some more of that for a while.

Though living with him at the same time sounds like heaven.

I can't believe he even suggested it. Chandler of all people. It's such a big deal.

But, I guess…I mean, he's the one who suggested we get married, so maybe it shouldn't be that surprising that he'd suggest it.

I mean, living together. We're going to wake up together and go to sleep together, we're going to eat breakfast and drink coffee together, sit on the couch together, read together…

Now that I think about it, the only real difference will be all of his stuff mixed with mine. Everything else, we already do.

The mingling of our stuff, though…I like that. I really like that. All of his clothes with mine, side by side in my closet, seeing him officially change his address to apartment twenty…it's huge.

It's so huge.

I've never been anywhere close to living with someone. I've definitely never been in a relationship long enough to think that moving in with my significant other would be a good idea. But with Chandler it just feels right.

Everything with Chandler has felt right. This entire year from the first moment I kissed him has been wonderful and feels like it was all supposed to happen. Joey being off with the other bridesmaid that night is the best thing that could have happened because it all led me to this. Sex with Joey probably would have been all right, and I might've felt okay after it but what I would have missed. I wound up feeling so much better than okay. I went to his hotel room that night feeling so sad, so lost and…he changed all that. Just with a few words, too.

How could I have spent so much time with him and never realize that he's everything I've always been looking for?

Maybe I was too busy looking for the guys I'm supposed to want instead of going for the guy that just makes me happy. And he does. Even before we started, he could always make me smile. He was there with me through some of my darkest post-Richard days just telling me random stories, making things up, whatever it took to get me to smile. He let me cry on his shoulder, though he never wanted to admit it to our friends. He's always gone above and beyond for me, though the more time I spend with him, the more I know this is true about him in general. He's a wonderful person who loves his friends dearly and will do anything in his power to make them happy, usually at his own expense. He hates being the butt of so many jokes but deals with it if for someone else's benefit.

Just one more thing I love about this man.

Now, I'm the main focus of his energies. He wants my happiness more than anything. He's told me more than once that it's more important than anything else to him.

I think it's lucky that he's what makes me happy. Works out for both of us, especially because I want him to be happy, too. My heart still flutters when I look at him, and I smile so much just thinking about him.

Why did it take me so long? I could have been this happy years ago.

"You know you haven't stopped smiling in hours?"

I blink a few times, pulling myself out of my thoughts, surprised that he's still awake. I turn my face to his, my smile widening as I see him grinning back at me. I rub his arm gently and his fingers tighten on my hip, pulling me a little closer.

"This is our bed now," I whisper, and his eyes crinkle at the edges with happiness.

"Yeah, it is."

I lean in and kiss him gently. "Thank you for fixing the door."

He snorts, rolling his eyes. "All I did was hold it up—you and Joey did the rest."

"It was still helpful. And you went down to the store with Joey to get all that stuff to fix the door…"

"Well, this is going to be my new home—I want it to look nice."

"Our home," I say softly, and a happy shiver runs through my body.

"Our home," he repeats, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek.

"Are you completely sure you want to do this?"

He looks at me, confused. "Of course I am. Why would you ask that?"

"We were sure about getting married, too, and look what happened with that."

He rolls onto his back and I prop myself up on my elbow, watching him. "This is different. I've been thinking about this for a while. We already spend all of our time together, and I can't remember the last time we spent the night apart. I can't even remember wanting to be away from you. I like that my clothes are mixed in with yours and that I have a toothbrush in your bathroom. I like that you actually want me around all the time. It just feels right, you know? Like it's the next step in our relationship." He pauses and sighs, and I place a gentle kiss on his chest, waiting.

"Getting married…that was an insecure reaction on my part. I was still kind of messed up from you having lunch with Richard, and then you told me that I'm the love of your life, and all I could think about was making sure that I didn't lose you."

"You'll never lose me, Chandler. Never."

"I'm a pretty big idiot, Mon. I do a lot of stupid things, stupid enough that they could drive you away some day."

"Chandler, you won't. After all this time…don't you realize this is for keeps? We're in this together. And you don't have the market cornered on idiotic moves. I'm the one that had lunch with my ex-boyfriend and decided not to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but you didn't want to ruin our anniversary—I get that."

I shake my head. "It's no excuse. I should have told you. But honey, I need you to know that I feel absolutely nothing for him. It's all gone. You're all I need. What I feel for you is so much more than I ever felt for him."

He looks at me, his expression very dubious. "Monica, come on."

"I mean it. I know he and I were…intense, but seriously, the way I feel about you…there are no words. There are actually no words, and even if there were, they wouldn't be good enough. You fill up all the spaces inside of me. You make me whole. I love you more than I ever thought possible and every day, it grows."

Chandler swallows heavily, staring at me. Not too long ago, I would have worried that I'd said too much, but now I just can't keep holding it all in. I actually need to tell him all the time how much I love him.

It really should be scary to feel this much for someone. It should scare the hell out of him, too. Somehow, though, it doesn't. At least it doesn't seem to. He doesn't run away from me. His first response to all this was to find a way to keep me closer. I think that says a lot about how far he's come, and about just how right we are together.

"You make me so happy," he says softly, and it's all I need to hear. My eyes fill with tears and I bury my face in his neck, holding him close. He rubs my back gently and for a few minutes, we just exist.

This really is exactly where I want to be.

Our relationship is still growing and changing and it's so incredibly exciting. This part really is better than the beginning when we couldn't keep our hands off each other. All of this means so much more. I'm building a life with this man. He knows all of my stupid quirks and insecurities and makes me feel better about all of it; he balances me out. He really does complete me.

"Do you realize you've asked me to marry you twice?" I finally mumble, hoping to break the serious mood.

"Twice in the space of about four months," he confirms, and I lift my head to smile at him.

"You must be going for a record," I tease, kissing his cheek.

He just tightens his arms around me. "Next time I do it, I promise it'll be for real."

My heart stops. Did he really just say that? This isn't like "let's get married in Vegas." This is a promise of forever. He's going to ask me to marry him someday. Someday I'll be his wife. My heart starts thumping in my chest erratically as I bite my lower lip, unsure of what to do or say.

"I mean, I don't know when that'll be," he warns me. "But when I ask…I'll mean it."

"Just so you know," I whisper, feeling even happier right now than I did just a few minutes ago. "I'll say 'yes'."

He smiles at me softly, one of his hands threading through my hair, pulling my lips to his.

Oh, my God. It's like everything just got real. This is my future. I'm going to get to spend the rest of my life with him.

I climb on top of him, pressing myself closer to him; I need to be closer to him. This is huge. It's so wonderful and scary and exciting and just huge.

His hands slide under my shirt slowly, and I can feel the question in his touch. I nod my head and pull off my tank top, tossing it over my shoulder carelessly. His arms wrap around me again, his fingers gently grazing my bare skin, and the heat of bodies pressed together feels more intense right now than it ever has before.

I whimper into his mouth and his hands slide down to my hips, pushing at my panties. I roll off him suddenly and pull them off myself, flinging them to the side. He looks at me in surprise and I just shake my head, smiling sheepishly. My sudden need for him right now is beyond intense.

He pushes his boxers down his legs, kicking them over the side of the bed. He grins back at me just as sheepishly and moves on top of me, his warm weight so comforting and exciting at the same time. Our hips move against each other teasingly and he nips at my lips. "No foreplay?"

"Verbal foreplay," I assure him, stroking the hair at the back of his neck. "You've got me all kinds of turned on right now."

"I love how sex is at least fifty percent mental for women," he says, his fingers gently stroking my sides. "Words are a turn on or turn off; so much more goes into it than just the physical. I mean, guys are easy. We get turned on and that's about it."

"Well, traditionally, women have a lot more to worry about during sex."

"Like what?" he asks, and I can tell that he's genuinely curious.

I just shrug. "We think about things like if, something goes wrong, will this guy make a good father? Is he someone we can handle being bound to for the rest of our lives? And that's just at the beginning. There can be a lot of mental drifting off where we think about what's on TV, or that we need to make a doctor's appointment or call our mothers. It's all over the place."

"That sounds…horrible."

"It can be, at times. There's not much worse than being bored during sex. We like our brains stimulated, otherwise we're mentally balancing our checkbooks."

He makes a face at me and I laugh. "Please tell me you've never done that with me."

"I promise. My mind may not always be focused on the activity, but it's usually hovering the general vicinity. I think about you and how much I love you and how good you make me feel. I don't have time for the mundane."

He shifts his hips against me and I groan, my eyes fluttering shut. "Sound like I have my work cut out for me." His lips are on mine before I can respond, and most thought goes out the window.

That's another reason I know this guy is the one for me—sex is stimulating on all levels. My mind doesn't have the capability of focusing on much else. Everything always feels so good. He really is the best sex I've ever had and it's not just because of all the physical stuff, which he's very good at; he's in my head, too, and my mind just fills with him and briefly, he's all that matters in my little world.

I shift my legs a little farther apart, my feet bracing next to his knees; he rubs against me gently and my entire body shudders. I wrap my arms around him tightly, pressing my body up against his as best I can.

He pushes his hips against me and a moan escapes me as he teases me, my body responding to his instantly.

I slide my hand in between us and grasp him gently; his entire body goes rigid for a moment at the contact before he smiles against my lips. I move my fingers over him carefully; he's so warm and solid in my hand. I position him at my entrance and he slides into me slowly, taking his time, and I feel every inch of him.

My head falls back against the pillow as I sigh; I open my eyes a little to see him looking back at me already, his expression captivated. I moan and shift my body, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible.

I need him. It's as simple as that. To exist, I need him with me. This connection that we have, that we've created, is everything. We're so right for each other, it's scary.

His hips draw back suddenly before he thrusts into me, and I almost weep from joy. It's only been a few days, but the last time we had sex was before we went to Vegas; so much as changed since then.

I think we've changed since then.

His lips go to my clavicle, biting carefully at my delicate skin and I push against me, burying my face in the hair on top of his head, the smell of his shampoo intoxicating.

"I love you, Monica," he whispers and my insides quiver. I'll never get tired of hearing him say that.

"I love you, Chandler," I answer, wrapping one of my legs around the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer.

He pushes into me quickly, using short, firm strokes, and I feel like I'm going out of my mind. Then he suddenly slows, his pace gentle, less frantic.

That feels wonderful, too.

Oh, my god, it feels so good.

His lips travel across my chest, sucking gently at my skin and without warning, he thrusts against hard; my eyes fly open in pleasant shock. "Ohh."

"You like that?" he asks, and I feel my toes curl. He doesn't do much talking during sex—I usually have that covered for the both of us—but when he does, he somehow manages to find exactly what I need to hear.

"Yeeeeeees," I moan, my eyes closing as sensations overwhelm me.

He does it again, hard but slow at the same time and it feels incredible. I don't know how he does it all the time, but he's so good at it.

"Babyyyy. Oh, God."

I feel his lips on my chest again and I push myself against him, trying to encourage his mouth on my breasts. He nuzzles them for a few moments but somehow manages to avoid them otherwise.

"Chandler," I groan, grabbing at his head, trying to move him where I want him.

His arms wrap around my shoulders and I open my eyes; he's grinning at me almost wickedly and I realize the bastard's doing this on purpose.

"Oh, God," I moan again as he continues the fantastic pace he's set, his hips grinding into me every time.

"So beautiful," he whispers and I whimper; he definitely stimulates me mentally.

"More," I demand, wrapping myself around him tighter and, to my delight, he immediately responds. His hips slam into me over and over and over, and I'm no longer just moaning; I'm yelling out for him, begging him, pleading, commanding, my fingernails digging into him and I try to make him move even faster, still desperate for more.

His lips are on mine once more, only partially muffling me, though I can't really be contained right now.

"Yes," I gasp, my mouth breaking from his. "Yes yes yes yes YES OH GOD CHANDLER."

And still, he moves against me, driving furiously; his back is slick with sweat. His forehead, too.

I love it.

I feel his lips skim across my cheek, down my jaw, and then I feel his teeth on my earlobe, biting gently. "I like when you scream," he says softly and my eyes fly open once more.

I think that can be arranged.

His lips wrap around my nipple suddenly and I almost fly off the bed, screaming involuntarily at his touch. He sucks at me greedily, his hand grasping the other one firmly, determinedly, his hips never slowing, never stopping.

"Don't stop," I beg. "Don't stop don't stop don't stop."

He releases me with a gentle pop, his hips suddenly still, and for just a moment I'm furious that he actually stopped. But he just smiles at me and brushes the hair back from my face. "Never," he promises.

He moves against me again, harder, faster, and somehow still so gentle.

I don't know how he does it.

He takes my other nipple in his mouth, my nails digging into his flesh, and I throw my head back against the pillow as I scream, the sensations almost more than I can take. He hisses at the contact but never stops his ministrations.

I push myself against him as fast as I can, my release so close all of a sudden. "Tell me you love me," I say suddenly; I desperately need to hear it again.

"I love you," he answers around me.

"Forever," I demand.

"Forever," he echoes, and I know that he's not just saying it to make me happy. My internal muscles start to quiver violently moments before the rest of me follows. I gasp a few times as I tense around him for a few seconds before I feel like I'm being ripped apart, orgasming wildly, my arms and legs wrapped around him tightly as I push against him as hard as I can, screaming, moaning, yelling, desperate for me.

He pounds into me, his fingers digging into me, his mouth coming off my breast as he groans. He moves even faster for just a few more moments before his movements become uncontrolled, sloppy in the best way possible.

I hold onto him for as long as I can, my limbs growing shaky from the effort of trying to keep him tight against me. He pants into my ear as his body slows, still thrusting against me occasionally until we both come to a stop.

I stroke his back for a few moments before my body collapses, arms and legs falling against the bed. With a groan, he pushes himself off me, and I grab onto him just enough to roll with him, keeping a leg draped over his as we lay side by side.

I brush the sweaty hair off his face and he smiles at me sleepily. I kiss his forehead and his eyes flutter shut, and I smile at how happy he looks.

I do that. I make him happy. That might be better than anything else.

Suddenly, I'm completely overwhelmed by my emotions and I feel like I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

This is my life. This is my future. I get to be with him forever. Moving in together is just the first step; I know the rest of it's coming. We'll get there.

I'm so happy with where we are now.

I sigh happily as I watch his face, his breathing already deepening, the content look on his face not going anywhere.

He's going to be the first thing I see every morning when I open my eyes.

That fills me with so much joy.

I get to hold him every night when I go to sleep.

For the rest of my life, I get to be with this man. I'm sure of it. I know it. We're doing this, and we're doing this together.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, his head burrowing in the hollow of my neck.

I can't wait for the rest of my life.