A/N: Hey! Becca and I are update buddies! It's been a long time since we've done that! Go check out the second pivotal chapter of Writings on the Wall. Love you babe! Thanks for the reviews, I have nothing else to say! J

Disclaimer: I own Orlando Bloom! Really, I do. If you don't believe me, I don't care! You just won't be invited to the wedding!

Chapter 8 - Crazy

"Oh the weather outside is frightful but the fire's so delightful," Chandler said. He had just entered Monica and Rachel's apartment. "Mon?"

"In here," she called from her bedroom. He opened the door to her room and found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by a sea of presents and wrapping paper.

"Wrapping a little late this year, huh?" he commented.

"I always wrap on Christmas Eve. It's one of my secrets," she said with a smile. "So what's up?"

"Nothin... I just noticed that everyone else is out shopping..." he said suggestively.

"Yeah?" Monica said, feeling an excited tingling somewhere around her stomach.

"Yeah. But you know, if you have too much wrapping to do," Chandler said, "I could just go."

"I think I could take a break," Monica grinned. She stood up and he pulled her to him, kissing her roughly. Her hands fumbled with his belt and he was about to slip her flannel shirt off when she caught sight of the clock and gasped.

"Oh, shit! Pete's picking me up in thirty minutes!"

"It's okay, I can be quick," Chandler mumbled against her skin.

"No, no, I really have to get ready. I'm sorry, sweetie - tomorrow, okay? I promise," she said, prying herself away from Chandler with difficulty. She hurried from her bedroom and he sat down on the bed, watching her wistfully.

"Okay," he said. "Merry Christmas."

But she didn't hear him.

Monica looked herself up and down in her mirror. Not bad, she thought with satisfaction. She had on a long, velvety red dress that made her breasts bigger and her waist smaller - something so badly wanted and so rarely found in a dress. She'd swept her dark waves up into a bun on top of her head with tiny ringlets cascading down her face. She glanced at her bedside clock. Pete would be there any minute. She smacked her dark red lips together one last time and left her bedroom.

"Whoa," Joey said, glancing up from a game of Scrabble her friends were playing. "Mon - whoa."

"That good?" Monica asked.

"Monica's gonna get laid tonight!" Phoebe said teasingly, taking a sip of eggnog.

"Yeah, I don't know if I want my baby sister going out looking that good," Ross said, whistling appreciatively. "The other women might throw things at you."

Monica glanced at Chandler. His face had turned red and he seemed to be suppressing the urge to say something. "You okay, Chandler?" she said pointedly.

"Yeah. Fine. You look great, Mon," he said in a choked voice. She smiled warmly at him, again feeling the tingling.

Someone knocked on the door. Monica tore her eyes from Chandler and hurried to open it. Pete stood with a single white rose in his hand, wearing a suit and a smile.

"Hey," she said, leaning in to kiss him. "Merry Christmas."

"You too - God, you look gorgeous," Pete said, kissing her again. Monica could almost feel Chandler's eye boring holes in the back of her head.

"We'd better go - bye, you guys," Monica said, ushering Pete out the door.

"Merry Christmas, everyone. I'll have her home by morning," Pete said, waving to her friends. As she closed the door behind her, Monica sighed with relief. Why was it that kissing Pete in front of Chandler made Monica feel like someone had injected acid into her stomach?

Monica blinked, trying to appear as if Pete's business partner's tenth story about his baby daughter was thrilling to her. Pete's Christmas party was unbelievably dull. As much as Monica tried not to judge people, business people really were not interesting.

Monica was about to get up and walk away when Pete interrupted, "You know, Martin, I'm so sorry, but Monica and I really have to go. See you Monday, okay?" With that, he pulled Monica from her seat and they wove their way through the room, waving at various people.

"Thank God!" Monica burst out as they entered the lobby of the hotel the party was at.

"I know, I was actually afraid for my life in there."

"I was afraid for his life," Monica said, rolling her eyes. She slipped into her coat and turned to Pete. "So where are we going?"

"I was thinking maybe to the park," Pete said, his eyes twinkling.

"Sounds good," Monica said as he led her out to the street. Pete looked around the busy sidewalk, then put his hand up and waved. Monica wondered why he was hailing a cab when he had a chauffeur, until she looked down the street and saw -

"Oh, my God," she murmured. A horse-drawn carriage was making it's way slowly down the street. It was decorated in red and green ribbons, and silvery lights. People honked and pointed as the carriage approached. Monica put her hand over her mouth and laughed.

Pete stepped up to the carriage and held his hand out to her. "After you," he said. Blushing like crazy, Monica accepted his hand and climbed into the carriage. The seats were made of comfortable leather, and several blankets sat waiting for her. Pete hopped into the carriage himself, settled the blankets around them, and said, "To the park!"

Monica couldn't stop laughing as the horses neighed and waited impatiently at a stop light. A group of actual carolers stopped and sung to them as they waited. Somehow, all the normal New York sights seemed magnified and beautiful from the horse-drawn carriage.

Slowly, the carriage arrived at Central Park, where the horses began to move at a more regular pace. Light snow fell on them. Monica snuggled into Pete's warm arms around her.

"Pete, thank you so much. This is so amazing," she whispered.

"Nothing is too amazing for the woman I love," Pete said back. They rode along is silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company and the picturesque scene around them.

Suddenly, Pete pulled a small black box from his coat and held it out to Monica. "Pete," she admonished. "We said no gifts!"

"Just open it, Mon," Pete said quietly, a strange look in his eyes. A feeling of something between delight and dread filled Monica's stomach as she opened the tiny box with shaking fingers.

A ring - the ring, the one from Tiffany's - sat inside. Monica gasped involuntarily. "Oh - oh," she stammered.

"Monica, I know we've only been together for 10 months, but I love you more than anything and I want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?" Pete asked in a husky voice.

Monica's mind was blank. Think, Monica, think, she commanded herself. Did she want to marry Pete? Pete would be a good husband. She should marry Pete

But did she love Pete? Yes, she loved him - but did she really, all-out, want-to-spend-the-rest-of-their-lives-together love him? She didn't know, and she was afraid that by not knowing, she knew the answer. Her mind swirled as she tried to comprehend her own thoughts.

And then there was the matter of Chandler. She obviously couldn't marry Pete and carry on like a lustful teenager with Chandler. She would have to end it. But she didn't want to, she really didn't want to.

But it will never go anywhere with Chandler. Even if you ever told him... he wouldn't feel the same way. It doesn't matter at all. You'd only end up getting hurt. Marrying Pete is the safe thing. The realization that nothing would ever work with Chandler sealed the deal.

"Yes."

A/N: Wow I can't WAIT for your reviews. Haha… Happy New Year!

*Yen*