I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.

With a sigh of relief, I peel off my dirty, sweaty chef's jacket and toss it in the restaurant's laundry bin. It's been a hell of a long day—I got in at nine this morning and it's now after ten at night. My feet are killing me, my back is aching, and all I want to do is go home, make sure Katie is tucked in, then fall asleep against Chandler in a hot bubble bath. I'm sure I'll be unconscious before the new year ever hits.

I smile a little ruefully to myself, stretching my arms over my head. This is the first year in forever that I've actually had a boyfriend on New Year's Eve and I can't even be with him. Seems ironic, somehow.

I suppose, technically, I would get home in time for us to go out somewhere, but just barely. By the time I got there, showered, and got dressed up, it'd probably be after eleven, and we wouldn't make it anywhere before midnight. No—better to just go home and relax with the two of them. That's more fun, anyway.

I grab my water bottle off the counter and chug half of it down, breathing heavily afterward. I would much rather this was a gin and tonic, but that'll have to wait until I'm home, too.

God, it's been a long day. Nothing like a holiday to bring out the crazy in people.

I really ought to stop complaining. True, I've been at work for almost all of New Year's Eve, but in exchange I got to spend Christmas Eve and Day with Chandler and Katie. All things considered, I'd say it was well worth it.

That doesn't mean I don't miss the two of them like crazy and am not jealous that they've been able to spend the whole day together, probably with some or all of our friends.

"You all right over there, Monica?"

I blink a few times, looking up at the few others around me who have also managed to survive swing-shift hell and will also be on their way shortly. "Huh?"

"I thought you were ready to get out here hours ago," Billy, one of the waiters, says to me. "Why are you still here?"

I shrug, finishing what's left of my water bottle before tossing it toward the trash. "Trying to find the motivation to walk home," I answer tiredly. "You know there's no way I'll find a cab tonight."

"You mean Mr. Perfect isn't coming to pick you up?" Samantha, another one of the waiters, asks, waggling her eyebrows.

"Mr. Perfect is at home with the baby," I answer, digging my change of clothes out of my bag. "There's no way I'd let him drag her out at this time of night just so I don't have to take the subway on my own."

"Pity," she calls as I disappear into the tiny bathroom off the kitchen. "I could sure go for some eye candy right about now."

"Hey!" I hear Billy exclaim as I pull off my work pants and slip into my jeans. "What am I, chopped liver?"

"Something like that," Samantha answers as I tug my gross t-shirt over my head. I wrinkle my nose in disgust at my grimy clothes before folding them gingerly and tucking them into a grocery bag before putting them with the rest of my things. I pull on my sweater—a pale blue one that Chandler got me for Christmas that he says matches my eyes, and happens to cling to my boobs perfectly—running my fingers over the soft material for a moment. I need to get myself in gear. I really do have Mr. Perfect waiting for me at home and I'm letting myself space out at work.

I get a couple of playful catcalls as I walk out of the bathroom in my form-fitting shirt, but I just bow gratefully. Considering I feel like I've been hit by a truck, I'll take compliments where I can get them. I listen to the others chatter as I gather up the dinner I made for me and Chandler, trying to force myself to get my act together—if I don't, I'm liable to stick around and help out when I let myself see how busy the place still is.

"Monica? Is Monica still here?"

I stand on tiptoes, trying to see who's calling my name. "I'm here. What's up?"

Casey, one of the hostesses, sighs with relief. "Oh, good. One of the private parties wants to talk to you."

I cringe, taking a couple of unconscious steps away. "About what? I'm already off the clock."

She shrugs, spreading her hands helplessly. "Don't know. I think they wanted to compliment your cooking."

I feel myself standing up a little straighter, pride at a job well done making me feel cocky. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. They seemed pretty happy, so I told them I'd check if you were still here. Party Room C." With that, she hustles out of the kitchen to get back to whatever is waiting for her at the door.

"Well, well, well," Billy says teasingly. "Look at Chef Monica, getting called out on her cooking on New Year's Eve of all nights."

I grin at him, not saying anything. Super busy holidays are notorious for ending up with gross food. Between the increased volume, a "special" menu, and the number of people with ridiculously high expectations of what the staff within a restaurant should be capable of, food and service often fall short of the high bar. Having a group of customers—a party, no less—want to compliment my food tonight is just the ego boost I need.

"Well, get out there," Samantha tells me, giving my shoulder a shove. "Even happy customers don't like to be kept waiting."

"Yeah, yeah." I tug my hair out of my ponytail as I push my way out of the swinging doors, my eyes growing wide when I see the sheer number of people crammed into the restaurant. It's easy to not think about it when you're in the kitchen—you just cook the food and hope for the best. These poor waiters, though…I know a few called out "sick" at the start of their shifts, content to let the other dedicated souls bear the brunt of the burden on one of the busiest nights of the year, but how they're even handling this right now is a mystery to me.

I move quickly around the edge, dodging chairs and drunk diners as I go. All of the party rooms are closed off, filled to the brim with revelers. I approach Party Room C, hesitating at the door; I hate to barge in on people, even if they're expecting me. I knock on the door and wait, but hear nothing. I press my ear to the door, but with all the noise going on behind me, it's impossible to tell if anyone inside has said anything. I knock again, giving it a few more moments before I carefully pull open the doors.

Balloons spill out at me, the ones filled with helium bouncing along the ceiling, the others falling about at my feet. I laugh and kick at a few of them—whoever is in this room tonight definitely went all out.

"Hello?" I call, pushing aside some of the balloons as I make my way into the room, but my voice is muffled by the endless amounts of latex surrounding me. I giggle to myself, childishly, at the stupid "rubbers" comments running through my head while simultaneously blaming my boyfriend for the fact that I've mentally become a teenage boy while dating him. "Hello," I call again, still not getting an answer.

I turn in a slow circle, looking at the room. They did it up nice, though. Aside from the balloons floating placidly on the ceiling, crepe paper hangs delicately on the walls, streamers look like they've been tossed onto every surface, and confetti in the shape of stars and champagne flutes is scattered about. Definitely festive, but no one is here. The tables have been pushed out of the way, neatly lining the walls, and I feel a little disappointed. I didn't think it had taken me that long to get out here, but maybe they were in a rush to get to their next stop.

Something catches my eye, my heart stopping when I see a baby carrier in the corner. Did someone actually manage to leave behind their child? I force myself to take deep breaths—maybe they just left the carrier. Maybe the kid was tuckered out against someone's shoulder and they simply forgot the carrier. I make my way over to it, peeking in cautiously.

My heart stops again. "Katie? What are you doing here?" Naturally, she doesn't answer. It's way past her bedtime and she's down for the count, her limbs looking long and spindly as she's sprawled in her little seat.

I hear a little movement behind me, the sounds from the main dining area becoming more muffled, and I turn. I feel myself light up when I see Chandler, smiling at me sheepishly. "You made it!" I exclaim, rushing over to throw my arms around him. "I wasn't expecting to see you until I got home."

He hugs me tight, pulling me off the ground just a little for a few moments. "We missed you. We've gone all day without you and couldn't wait a second longer."

I laugh a little, pulling back and taking his face in my hands. "You're so sweet. You didn't have to—"

He cuts me off with a kiss, smiling against my lips. "I know I didn't have to," he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. "I wanted to. Katie didn't mind being dragged out, either. I don't think she's even cracked an eye since I pulled her out of her crib."

"Thank you," I whisper back, giving him another kiss. "I'm glad you're here." I kiss him again before slowly untangling my arms. "We should get out of here, though—this was someone's private room and I don't know if they're still here or not. I don't think they'd get a kick out of seeing their chef necking with her boyfriend."

"All right," he answers, moving his hands to my hips. "Why are you in here, by the way?"

"Oh—I was told that someone actually wanted to compliment the chef. You think I could resist something like that?"

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Definitely not. Did they have nice things to say?"

I shrug, glancing over my shoulder at Katie, who's still oblivious. "No idea. I got here and there was nothing but balloons. I guess they didn't want to compliment me too badly."

He smiles at me, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I love you."

I blink in surprise, but my grin nearly answers for me. "I love you, too." He presses his lips to mine again, and I finally push gently at his shoulders. "Save it for later, hot stuff. Let's go home."

He nods and lets go of my hips, moving toward Katie. I carefully put my bag on the floor and pull at my coat, trying to unwrap it from everything else. "Oh, wait," he says. "Just one more thing before we go."

I tug at my coat a couple more times, not getting anywhere. "Oh, yeah? What's that?" I turn around and gasp. On one knee in the middle of the room, Chandler looks up at me nervously.

"I really love you," he says, his voice cracking. He takes a moment to clear his throat and I feel my eyes fill with tears. "You are absolutely everything to me. You've made me and Katie happier than I ever thought possible. You—" His voice catches and he looks away, shaking his head.

I cover my mouth with my hand, tears cutting warm tracks down my face. My heart feels like it's going to pound out of my chest. Is this really happening? I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

Chandler looks up at me and shrugs helplessly, his own eyes shiny as he tries to get himself together. He pats at his pockets, frantic for a few moments and I can't help but laugh. He grins, a little box appearing in his hands, and I double over. My knees shake and I drop to the floor in front of him, actually weeping.

This is really happening. I cover my face, trying to muffle my sobs. I feel him take one of my hands, pulling it to him. "You're in my heart, Monica," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "No—you are my heart. I will love you until the day I die." I watch his throat bob as he swallows, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm shocked to realize that he's nervous. How on earth can he be nervous? Does he really think I'd say "no"?

"Honey," I choke out, hoping to reassure him, but nothing else comes out. Instead, I squeeze his fingers, hoping to let him know that I'm with him, that I'll always be with him.

His fingers squeeze mine in return and he smiles at me. "Will you marry me?" he asks softly, his voice full of hope.

My cheeks hurt, and I realize it's from smiling so hard. "Yes."

His eyes close for just a moment as his entire body sags in relief. "Really?"

I keep our fingers locked together and reach out to cup his face with my other hand. "Yes."

He throws his arms around me suddenly, nearly bending me over backward in his excitement. I laugh as our lips meet, shock settling over me. Oh, my God. This is happening.

"We're engaged?" I ask suddenly, blinking at him in surprise.

He grins at me, and I swear his entire being is glowing. "Yeah. I think so. But I guess it's not official until I do this."

I feel my forehead furrow in confusion as he pulls back, realization dawning an instant later as he cracks open the forgotten box. I feel everything inside of me get twisted up again as I realize it's a ring—my ring. My engagement ring. He carefully takes my left hand, the cool band sliding over my ring finger a moment later. I barely take a moment to look at it before my head falls against his shoulder, tears falling endlessly from my eyes.

"Say it again," he requests, his fingers running through my hair.

I sniffle a little, lifting my head. "I'll marry you." I barely have the words out before he's kissing me for all he's worth, arms wrapped tightly around me.

"Are you sure?" he finally asks. "I mean, I know it hasn't even been a year—"

"Chandler, I've known that I want to spend the rest of my life with you for almost as long as we've been together." He grins, pulling me in for another kiss. When I finally give in to my lungs and breathe, I look around the room in wonder. "This was you?" I ask, finally starting to put the pieces together. "This wasn't a private party, was it? The balloons, all of it…"

"It's for you," he answers simply. "Everything is for you. Everything will always be for you."

I swallow heavily, smiling shakily. "But...but how? These private rooms are booked way in advance. How'd you manage to do this?"

He grins, his fingers sliding through my belt loops as he holds me. "That…was a stroke of luck, really. And I have to confess, I enlisted the help of some of your coworkers, too."

My eyes open wide, my mouth dropping in surprise. "I know I keep asking this, but how?"

He leans forward, pressing a brief kiss to my lips. "You probably didn't even realize it, but I've been pumping you for information for weeks now. Obviously, I've known for a long time that I want to marry you, but I couldn't figure out when to ask. I thought about doing it at Christmas, but that seemed a little clichéd."

"But New Year's Eve isn't clichéd?" I tease.

He takes it all in stride. "It is, but I figured, the hell with it. You'd never see it coming like this. You didn't, right?"

"I had no idea," I assure him. "I'm completely stunned."

"Good. Anyway, when you told me forever ago that you'd have to work tonight in exchange for getting Christmas off, I started asking questions. I asked you if some of your favorite waiters would be with you tonight—to make the night more bearable, obviously." Try as I might, I can't remember him asking me that. It must have been such a normal, boring moment that I never gave it a second thought. "When you told me who'd be here tonight, I started making calls and planning maneuvers. At first, because there weren't any private rooms available, I was just going to wait outside the kitchen door, but Samantha called me at work one day to let me know about the cancelation in here, so I took it."

"You mean, there hasn't been a party in here all night?"

"Oh, no, there was a party here earlier, but they made the reservation after me, so Casey gave them strict instructions to be out of here by eight-thirty."

I chuckle a little, tears still filling my eyes at regular intervals. "I didn't know they could do that."

He shrugs, smiling at me proudly. "They probably shouldn't, but she didn't give anyone the option. Telling you that someone wanted to compliment the chef was their idea, though, because they knew it'd be the one thing that would get you to stick around for a few more minutes."

"I'm pretty transparent about getting compliments," I agree shamelessly.

"As much as it sucked with you being at work all day, it gave me and Katie a chance to get everything ready. The balloons were her idea."

"Naturally," I answer, glancing at her carrier. She's still fast asleep, drool dribbling down her chin.

"I wanted to make it special," he whispers, and I turn back to him. He looks so nervous, so earnest, that I just want to take him in my arms and comfort him.

"You succeeded," I tell him softly. "I never imagined anything like this would happen to me. You know you could have asked me—"

"I know, I know," he says, cutting me off. "I could have asked you anywhere and it would have been special, blah blah blah. You don't need me to go out of my way, you've told me before. But Monica…you deserve it. Do you understand that? You deserve all of this and more. You deserve to be swept off your feet and the ridiculous, over-the-top romantic gestures. You deserve the world, and I will spend my entire life trying to give it to you."

My breathing hitches in my throat, and I swallow several times to push back my tears. "You've already given me the world. Everything I've ever wanted and hoped for…it's all wrapped up in you and Katie. That's why I don't need anything else. I already have everything."

He pulls me into his arms and buries his face in my neck, and for a while we both cry. I shouldn't be surprised at his reaction, but I love that he's just as moved by this moment as I am, that this is just as big a deal for him as it is for me. He wants to marry me. It's not something he thinks he's supposed to do or something that I've been pressuring him for—he wants it. He did all this just to ask me a simple question.

"I love you," I choke out. "I love you so much."

He pulls his head out of my neck, one of his hands cupping my cheek. "I can't wait to be your husband."

I laugh and sob at the same time, pulling him back into my arms. I want to say more, but I just can't. My body isn't cooperating. All I can do is hold Chandler…my fiancé.

Oh, my God, I'm getting married. I get to have a wedding and a dress and all of it, and I get to be Chandler's wife.

"Time for a 'we just got engaged' selfie?" He whispers to me, making me laugh again.

"Definitely," I answer with a nod. "It's definitely time for that."

I feel him pull his phone out of his pocket and I wipe at my cheeks, trying to compose myself just a little. I lean my head against his, grasping at his shirt to keep him close. His hand slides around my waist as he holds out the phone. I sniffle as he starts taking pictures, smiling even though I know I look like a complete mess.

"And one of these," he whispers, angling his face toward mine. Happily, I lean up to kiss him, completely aware that we've made this clichéd moment even more of a cliché, and I don't care one bit.

When we come up for air, he immediately scrolls through the pictures, smiling as he goes. "These are good," I tell him softly.

"We even managed to get your ring in them." He tilts his head back, looking at me curiously. "Have you even checked it out? I want to know if I found the right one."

"It's perfect," I answer, still without really looking. "If you picked it out and you thought it was right, then it's perfect."

"I'd still feel better if you looked at it."

I shrug a little and lift my hand—I can't see it clearly for very long because I start to cry again. "Chandler, it really is perfect. Oh, my God, it's gorgeous." I sink down to my haunches, staring at it. It really is the most amazing engagement ring I ever could have imagined. It couldn't be more right if I'd designed it myself.

It's absolutely insane how well he knows me.

"I do have something else for you," he whispers, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"Oh, honey, you've done more than enough."

"Eh. What's one more thing?"

"Chandler—"

Before I can get the words out, the doors to the room fly open, and my mouth drops open in shock as everyone I know tumbles in; Ross, Rachel, Joey, Phoebe, Mike, most of the staff of the restaurant, some of the people from Chandler's job, and, I can't even believe it, my parents. I look at Chandler in wonder, but he just shrugs. When I look back to all the people who've gathered for this, they're all wearing the same expectant look. My brand new fiancé nudges me and I let out a laugh, holding up my hand. "We're engaged!"

Noise assails my ears as people tug at my arms and pull me to my feet, gathering me and Chandler in for a mass hug. We're completely engulfed in love, everyone congratulating us at once. I'm vaguely aware of one of the waiters trying to explain the commotion to the probably very curious customers, but not much is registering right now.

"I can't believe you're all here," I say, though I don't know how much of it anyone hears. "Did you all know about this?"

That finally gets attention. "Only for a couple of hours," Rachel answers, grabbing one of my hands to give it a squeeze.

"He got us all to come over this afternoon," Phoebe says, her eyes shiny with tears, "and told us then. We thought we were just going to start celebrating early—"

"But then he told us that he was planning to propose tonight," Ross adds in, looking genuinely and truly happy for the two of us. "He had it all planned out and everything."

"So he got us all to help," Joey exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. "And there's still helium left at the apartment!"

I burst out laughing—Joey would be excited by leftover helium. "Thank you so much. All of you." I lift my eyes to my coworkers who not only helped to orchestrate this, but managed to keep it quiet for so long.

"I can't believe you didn't catch on," Billy says. "I was damn near bursting all night long. I thought one of us was going to spill the beans for sure."

I laugh and wipe my cheeks again before sliding my arms around Chandler's waist. "I honestly had no idea. I don't think I could have been more surprised."

"I can't believe your mother and I have been sitting on this for as long as we have." I look up, trying to find my father, my eyes landing on him and my mom in the corner, Katie blinking at us grumpily from my mother's arms.

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"Chandler asked us ages ago for permission to marry you," he answers, beaming at me for a moment before turning his attention back to Katie.

I blink up at Chandler, shocked. "You asked my parents for my hand in marriage?"

He shrugs sheepishly. "I know it's really old-fashioned, but I really just wanted to make sure they approved of me. You're their only daughter. I figured if they had any major objections to me marrying you, I needed to reevaluate my life."

"I can't believe it," I say softly. "Everything you did…"

"It's for you," he tells me again. "Because I love you and because you deserve it and I wanted to make tonight magical."

I stand on tiptoe and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing my lips to his. Our friends erupt in good-natured hooting and catcalling even as they wrap their arms around us in a giant hug.

"What about your parents?" I ask suddenly, pulling back from him.

"I love it when you talk about my parents when we're making out," he teases. "Can we talk about my grandparents, too?"

I pinch his side, making him laugh even as he winces. "Everyone else is here. What about your mom and dad?"

"Dad had to work—he couldn't get out of it, but he expects lots of pictures. And Mom…" his voice trails off and he gestures his head toward Joey, who holds up a cellphone with a grin. Chandler reaches out and grabs the phone, holding it between our ears. "Hi. Mom."

"About time," she grumbles playfully. "Congratulations, you two!"

"Thank you, Mrs.—Nora. I hate that you couldn't be here."

"Well, I get to spend the New Year in Paris, so it's not all that bad."

I chuckle at that. "No, I suppose not."

"I'm happy for you both, and I promise I'll take you out for a celebratory dinner as soon as I'm back in the country."

"Thank you, Mom. We love you. I know it's the middle of the night over there, though, so go back to…whatever it is you were doing."

She laughs at that, though I imagine she was probably in the middle of writing something. "Goodnight, you two. And congratulations again. I'm so happy for you both. Love you." A moment later, the line goes dead and Chandler hands the phone back to Joey.

"I think somebody needs you," Rachel says, gesturing over my shoulder. Chandler and I turn as one and see my mother heading toward us with a fussy Katie.

"Oh, honey," I laugh as I hold out my arms for her. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. We didn't forget about you, I promise." I pull her against my chest and even though she whines and snuffles, she relaxes against me. "I know—it's really late for you. I'm sorry we woke you up." She doesn't have any sort of response, so I suspect that she's probably on her way back to dreamland. "You think she's excited that Mommy and Daddy are getting married?"

"Do you think she has any idea that we aren't married?" he retorts. "As long as she has your boobs to sleep on, she really doesn't care one way or another."

I'd like to argue that, but since they have been her pillow of choice for a long time now, it'd be hard for me to prove my case.

"Champagne?" I look up to see Billy smiling at me playfully—he and Samantha have made the rounds with a couple of trays covered in champagne flutes. They really are good sports to be doing this when they have their own paying customers to worry about.

Chandler and I each take a glass, smiling at each other dreamily. Everything about this has been better than any fantasy I ever could have come up with. This guy is more than I deserve.

"To my little sister," Ross says, surprising me. "And to her husband-to-be. I know I'm not alone when I tell you just how happy we all are for you." He pauses, clearing his throat, and I feel tears well in my eyes. I can't believe my meanie, grouchy big brother is getting emotional because I'm engaged. "Uhh…congratulations."

Everyone pauses, waiting to see if that's what we're supposed to toast to, but Phoebe saves the day. She lifts her glass in the air, grinning at us like the Cheshire Cat. "To the journey."

The group nods along, lifting their own glasses up high. "To the journey."

I tilt my head up to Chandler, finding him already smiling down at me. "To the journey?" I ask softly, and he tightens his arm around me.

"Oh, yeah. I can't wait for the rest of my life."

I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes, and I love that you're the last person that I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

A/N…I really wanted to use that second quote at the beginning, but I thought it might give away too much. It's from When Harry Met Sally…, one of the greatest movies of all time. I'm sure most of you knew that, but if you haven't seen it, or haven't seen it for a while, go watch it again.

I keep losing track of how much time has been elapsing between updates—sorry about that. I have a new job (YAY!), and I really like it, but it's been taking up a lot of my time. As a result, I haven't written anything in forEVER. I need to stop being such a slacker, huh?

Anyway, I hope you guys liked this one. Interesting proposals are hard to write, and I hope this surprised at least one or two of you. And thank you all so much for sticking with me through this! You're the best!