A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews! And for the OVERWHELMING response to my Groovy Kind of Love question. Remind me to never EVER ask another question at the end of a chapter. EVER. :) Anyway, yall are great, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint... I'm going somewhere with this. I promise.

This chapter is dedicated to the one and only Becca. I love you to pieces, babe. Here is my little song for you -

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away

I made it up. Really. *coughs*Yensaliar*cough*. Dammit, Boris, SHUT UP! *slams closet door and throws away key*

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Is that new? Really? I mean, if I sat here and said "I own every character in this story", what would happen? Maybe I should try it.

CHAPTER TWO

Monica quietly opened the door to her apartment the next morning, hoping against hope that Rachel was out, and she could slip in unnoticed. But no, that was too much to hope for, she realized. She groaned as she saw Rachel, Joey, Phoebe, and Ross all in her apartment. They grinned up at her.

"I'm so glad you're all here," she mumbled.

"Somebody's wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday," Rachel singsonged.

"Spill!" Phoebe said. "Who is it?"

"Um... Pete?" Monica said quickly before hurrying to the kitchen and hiding her burning face in the fridge.

"Pete?" Joey cried.

"Millionaire Pete?" Rachel squealed, jumping up excitedly.

"Pete-who-you-broke-up-with-because-he-was-fighting-in-the-Ultimate-Championship Pete?" Ross added.

"How many Pete's do we know?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes, that Pete," Monica said, a small, proud smile playing on her lips. "But just so you know, he's not doing the Ultimate Fighting thing anymore. So really he's just Pete-who-I-broke-up-with Pete." She took a swig of orange juice and looked around the room. "Hey, where's Chandler?"

"Still in bed?" Joey suggested. "I don't know, I haven't seen him since yesterday morning - "

"Omigod!" Rachel cried suddenly. "It was Pete who sent you the Valentine! I knew it was an ex-boyfriend, and Pete - "

"Actually, he said it wasn't him," Monica said, shrugging.

"So you've got another admirer?" Ross said in disbelief.

"Again - thanks," Monica said acidly. "Anyway, yeah, I guess. But it doesn't matter because I'm seeing Pete again tonight."

"So you really wanna be with Pete again?" Joey asked.

There was a long pause. "Uh-huh," Monica said finally.

"Wow, that was reassuring," Phoebe said.

"Well, what do you want me to say? Pete's great. He's good to me. It's comfortable, it's familiar - "

"He's rich - "

"And he loves me," Monica finished. "And I'm not getting any other offers - at least not from guys who will say who they are, so what am I supposed to do?"

Her friends look at each other. Finally Rachel shrugged. "Whatever you want, Mon. Just don't make a mistake."

"So we're actually up 4.46 percent, and - Mon? Are you listening?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course!" Monica blinked across the table at Pete.

"Are you okay?" he asked is concern. "You seem a little - disconnected."

Yeah, I've been thinking about the love letter I got from a secret admirer yesterday, and I was just wondering what you, my boyfriend, thought of that, she thought. Unsure if Pete would find that as humorous as she did, she thought quickly of an excuse.

"I'm so sorry. I'm just - tired. Yeah. Tired."

"Oh, well that's okay," Pete said, taking her hand. "How about I get the check and we can go back to my place and open a bottle of - "

"Or maybe I should just go home and, you know, get some rest," Monica said loudly. Pete pulled back, looking slightly hurt.

"Well, if that's what you want," he said slowly, looking past her to some point on the wall of the restaurant. "Waiter?"

As Monica got out of Pete's chauffeured limo 20 minutes later, she said, "I really am sorry, honey. I'm a little out of whack today - exhausted, I guess." She gave a loud yawn to emphasize her lie. "I promise, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Pete said. "I just want what's best for you - for us - you know that, right? I'm just so happy that we found each other again."

"So am I," she said immediately, hoping against hope that she had not just ruined everything.

But then Pete smiled. He leaned in and kissed her softly, then urgently. God, it didn't matter how unsure she was about this relationship - Pete still did amazing things to her body. His lips massaged her with gentle confidence. As his hands ran down her back, she shivered.

"On second thought... maybe, if you wanted to come up for a little while," she said heavily, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Mmm," he said in reply, kissing her again. He waved his car away, and somehow, blindly, they stumbled up the steps to her apartment. She unlocked the door, and they fell onto the couch, breathing heavily, his hands fumbling with the zipper on her dress...

"Oh my god."

Monica sat up, startled, her dress falling over her shoulder, the top of her breast exposed. Pete sat up too, his face blotchy, his tie loosened. Chandler, turning bright red and shielding his eyes, was standing in the doorway.

"I am so, so sorry - he-eeyy, I didn't know you were back together," Chandler said, his voice oddly strained. His eyes swept over Pete and Monica, tangled together on the couch, their rumpled hair, their halfway-undone clothes. "Is this - is this new?"

"Yeah, um, Chandler - not really a great time for a question and answer session," Monica said pointedly.

"Oh! Right. Sorry. I'll just let you two... whatever." Quickly he slammed the door shut. Monica sighed.

"Chandler's a great guy," Pete said. "But he sure knows how to ruin a moment, doesn't he?"

"Aw, well, let's make a new one." And as Monica leaned in and kissed her boyfriend, still torn and doubtful and unable to figure out what she wanted but just trying to make it all go away, she had no idea that just yards away, someone else's heart had broken in two and fallen on the floor.

She didn't hear Chandler's anguished cry as he slammed into his apartment; didn't know he was sick twice that night, just picturing her and Pete in each other's arms, sweaty and naked and panting; she didn't know that he lay awake in bed all night, tears running down her cheeks and onto his soaked pillow while she lay doing the same in another man's arms.

Monica stared, glassy-eyed, across the room at her brother. He was laughing and talking happily with Phoebe and Joey, a beer in one hand, Emily's fingers entwined with the other. Ross and Emily had just announced their engagement, and nothing less than a full-scale party was going on in Apartment 20.

Well, for everyone, that is, besides Monica - and Rachel. Rachel was sitting sulkily at the kitchen table, her third beer sitting in front of her, picking at her fingernails. Monica sat across from her, checking her watch every 25 seconds.

Pete was late for their date. Again. Was Pete ever on time? It seemed something was always wrong - an emergency at the office; a meeting that ran overtime; dinner with the senator - it was always something with Pete.

If it hadn't been for Monica's punctuality pet peeve, she wouldn't have cared at all. Two weeks had passed since their Valentine's Day rendezvous. Monica still didn't know if she wanted it - but she also didn't have the guts to end something when nothing was actually wrong.

A burst of laughter came from the area of the apartment where the rest of her friends were, and she glared at them as if they were out of line for making noise. She tapped her foot impatiently against the wooden floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Rachel coughed.

Tap tap tap tap tap.

Rachel raised her eyebrows at her pointedly.

TaptaptaptapTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

"Seriously, what the hell?" Rachel said.

"Pete's late," Monica growled.

"When was he supposed to be here?"

"8:30."

Rachel looked at the clock, which read 9:56. "Yikes."

The phone suddenly rang. Monica didn't move. It rang again. And again. And again. Finally, Chandler picked it up.

"Hello, you've reached 1-800-BJ, please leave a message after the beep," he said into the phone. Monica rolled her eyes as Chandler grinned at his joke.

Chandler's face clouded over, the smile seemingly wiped right off his face. He handed the phone to Monica. "It's Pete," he said tersely.

"Hi, I'm here," Monica said.

"What the hell was that?" Pete barked.

"Chandler being stupid." She looked around, expecting to see Chandler sticking his tongue out at her, but instead saw him sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead with a kind of vehement scowl. "Where are you?" she asked.

"Still at work. Big press conference tomorrow, one of the VP's completely fucked up - I'm so sorry, babe, but I'm gonna have to get a rain check."

Monica was silent.

"Mon? You there?"

"I don't know, Pete. Am I?" And without knowing why she was so angry or why she cared so much, she angrily pressed the 'Off' button. She slammed the phone down on the kitchen table.

"Bastard," Rachel muttered, digging into a bowl of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. Monica snatched the scooper off the table and reached into the carton.

Why did she care so much? Why did Pete blowing her off make her so angry? She didn't love Pete. She just wanted to be with him - because it was nice to have someone to call, to go out with, to sleep with. Because Pete was the best she could do.

Later, long after the party had ended and everyone had gone to their respective homes, Monica began to clean. She scrubbed all the dishes til they sparkled; she dusted all her knickknacks; she cleaned the refrigerator; she swept the floor with such vigor that she almost missed the tiny speck of crimson on her brown floor.

The tiny, red rose petal, curled at the edges, wilted and dead but still colorful. She didn't know how she had missed it every other time she had cleaned, for it must have been a week or two old.

She didn't remember ever getting red roses.

She didn't know how it had gotten there.