Author's Note: To Jenniferfan100 (and to all who have reviewed my fics) - thanks so much for taking the time to read my stories and for your great reviews. :) To answer your question, Jenniferfan100 (and for any other R&R fans who are reading my stories), I do plan to have more Ross and Rachel in this one and in TOW Uncle Joey. :) Thanks again for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it! :)
Chapter 10
On Monday, Chandler honored Monica's request by prominently displaying the silver-framed photo on his mahogany desk at work. It was, after all, where he spent the majority of his time.
Whenever he had a spare minute or needed to take a break from looking at spreadsheets, he worked on composing his letter to Monica. As he tried to put his thoughts to paper, his eyes would drift to the telephone. Calling would be so much easier.
"Come on, you can do this," he encouraged himself, while gazing at the photo.
"Do what?"
Chandler, who had been so focused on the picture, hadn't realized he was no longer alone. Riley Cooper, the senior project manager in the Bridgeport office, stood just inside Chandler's office. He looked to be Chandler's age and had a similar build. The two had formed an amicable relationship while working towards the same goal.
"Are you a letter writer?" Chandler asked.
"No, not really."
"Neither am I, but I'm trying."
"Your secretary, Paula, is a wiz at composing letters. Why don't you ask her?"
"This is of a personal nature."
"Oh. Writing to someone special?" he asked and then grinned.
"Yes, I am. But enough about that. What do you have there?"
Chandler had finally noticed that Riley carried a bulky file folder in his hands.
"Mind if I sit?"
"Go ahead."
Riley took a seat and then placed the manila folder on Chandler's desk.
"We received the latest projections. They don't look good. I'm seeing lots of overtime in our future."
"That's fine for me. I have nothing but time. Thanks for the heads up. I'll review the file today."
"There are also a couple of milestone dates coming up. If we meet those goals, this project will definitely be back on the right track, and we'll have you to thank."
"What are the dates?" Chandler asked, reaching for his calendar to write down the information.
"Four weeks from today is the first one. I hope you like this office because I have a feeling you will be sleeping here that whole weekend."
Chandler sat back in his chair and sighed.
"Actually, I won't be. I have a very important event to attend in upstate New York. I wasn't planning to be here at all that weekend. My intention was to devote as much time as I could to this project and reward myself by taking that weekend off."
Riley frowned. "That's not what I wanted to hear. Will you be available by cell phone?"
"I hadn't thought about it, but I could be. Sure. I'll tell Ross beforehand. He'll understand. I'm attending his engagement party. He's been one of my best friends since college. I'm his best man. I have to be there, but if need be, I can be here on Sunday."
"As long as we can reach you by phone, I think we'll be all right. Hopefully, the majority of the work will be done before then anyway. So, attending an engagement party. Sounds like fun. It's weird. I got a quick flashback when you mentioned the name Ross. When I was growing up, I lived three houses away from a family who had a son named Ross. We hung out together sometimes, mostly at school, and then my family moved. I haven't thought about him in years. He had a sister, too, but I can't think of her name."
"How about Monica? Does that ring any bells?"
"Monica! Yes! Geller, right? Ross and Monica Geller. Ross, he was okay, but Monica, wow, now it's all coming back to me. Man, was she fat. All she did was eat and gain weight. I remember one time she actually took Ross' food away from him. What a loser. Do you ever see her? What does she look like now? Is she still fat?"
It took everything he had, but Chandler managed to hold his temper in check at his co-worker's careless and rudely spoken words. Still, he wanted Riley to know he had no right to talk that way about Monica and that he would not tolerate such cruel comments about his friend. "Not that your callous questions deserve an answer, but I need to set the record straight. Monica is an extraordinary and lovely woman," he informed Riley, his tone icy. "Do not insult her again."
"I'm sorry," Riley said. He could see he had angered Chandler. "I didn't realize you cared so much about her."
"Well, I do, and I don't appreciate it when someone thinks nothing of offending her. Especially when she's not here to defend herself. And, anyway, in this case, you couldn't be more wrong."
Against his better judgment but knowing Riley would feel like a heel for what he said about Monica, Chandler showed him the photo. Riley whistled appreciatively.
"I'd never have known that was her if you didn't tell me. I do apologize. She definitely got her act together."
"Yes, she did. But there's so much more to her than just her looks. You couldn't even begin to understand."
"Well, excuse me," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "So, you guys look like you're having a good time in this photo. Is she the one you're trying to correspond with?"
"Yes," Chandler admitted uneasily.
"Why? Why are you wasting your time with a letter? Call her. Don't you want to hear her voice? Don't you want to be with her? Why isn't she here? More importantly, why did you leave NYC to come here if this is who you left behind? You must be crazy!"
"I'm beginning to think I am. But it's not like that, Riley. We're not together. At least, not the way you mean."
"Why the hell not? You couldn't look happier in this photo, and you couldn't look more miserable sitting behind that desk."
"I know, but it's complicated. You don't know our history."
"So, your solution to this complication was to come to Bridgeport and leave her in NYC? This woman," he said, pointing to the frame, "is hot! Are you blind?"
"No, I'm not blind," Chandler said, snatching the frame out of Riley's hands. He knew it had been a mistake to show him the picture. "I know exactly how hot Monica is. You don't need to advertise it."
"This is the ol' I don't get to have her, so no one else can either routine, isn't it?"
"No," Chandler denied. "I'm trying to show respect for my friend."
"If I weren't married, Chandler, I'd definitely have to renew an old acquaintance."
"Well, you are married, so forget about it. And don't talk about this with anyone around here. This is my personal business. You got that?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever. I give this whole arrangement of yours a month, tops. You're used to seeing and talking with her everyday, Chandler. You're never gonna make it."
"I am committed to this project," Chandler asserted.
"I'm not doubting that you are, but I'm just wondering how effective you can be when you obviously accepted this assignment for all the wrong reasons."
*~*
With the evening hours quickly approaching, Chandler continued to review the latest projections, despite a pounding headache and Riley's earlier words still echoing in his mind. He would work all night if he had to because he intended to prove his colleague wrong. This project would be completed on time and under budget because that's what he had promised the New York office when he'd accepted the assignment. For once in his life, even if it wasn't for the right reasons, he was going to honor his commitment. Because if he didn't, what hope did he have that he would ever be able to change?
*~*
"So," Rachel asked, later that night when Monica entered her apartment, "how did it go with Eric?"
After she'd accepted the invitation, Monica panicked and had called Rachel, who calmed her down and told her she should go out with him. Despite her earlier misgivings, Monica had a rather enjoyable time.
"It was nice," Monica admitted. "We went to a jazz club, listened to some good music, had two glasses of wine and got to know one another better."
She purposely didn't tell her friend that when Eric had tried to kiss her goodnight, she politely declined.
"Any sparks?" Rachel asked.
"Not really. Maybe on his part, but not on mine. I don't suppose we had any interesting phone messages or phone calls?"
"You mean from a certain someone in Bridgeport? Sorry, Mon," Rachel said sympathetically. "You didn't hear from him."
*~*
Over the course of the next week, Eric continued his pursuit of Monica; she let him. They went to a movie on Wednesday night and out to dinner Friday evening. He wanted to spend Saturday with her, but she told him she was going shopping with her friends Rachel and Phoebe to look for a bridesmaid dress.
"You're going to be in a wedding?"
"Yes. My brother Ross is marrying Rachel, who is one of my dearest friends. I'm going to be the maid of honor. They're having a Christmas wedding."
"Sounds nice. Even though you're not the one getting married, I bet you'll be the most beautiful woman there."
Monica blushed. She couldn't help it. It had been a long time since a man had been so blatant in his desire for her. She basked in his attention. This time, when he leaned in to kiss her goodnight, she let him. She let herself enjoy it, too.
*~*
Chandler stared at the computer monitor. With nothing better to do, he decided to spend Saturday at the office. The first milestone date was three weeks away, and he knew he had much more to accomplish. But his mind wasn't on statistics and budgets; it was on Monica. The week had gone by without him finishing the letter he'd promised himself he would write. Now, as he stared at the blank document on his word processing program, he knew he wouldn't be able to put his thoughts into words.
And you said you wanted to be a writer. He mocked himself for his lack of ability to construct two complete sentences in a note to Monica. Monica! The one he'd never had trouble communicating with.
What is wrong with you?
With his frustration mounting, he finally turned off the computer and focused his attention elsewhere. He desperately needed a distraction; unfortunately, even though it should have been, on this particular day, work was not the answer.
He left the office and walked, in the heat of the summer afternoon, to a restaurant that catered to the office-building employees in the area. The menu was limited on the weekends, but Chandler didn't care. A cheeseburger and fries sounded like a gourmet meal to him.
He sat in a corner booth of the relatively empty diner and tried to read the newspaper, but he soon realized he didn't care about current events. All he cared about, at that moment, was talking to Monica.
After he'd taken a bite of his burger and had dipped a few French fries in ketchup, he reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He quickly punched the numbers he knew by heart.
He shifted positions on the vinyl seat when he got the answering machine. Maybe she's screening her calls, he thought. He took some consolation in the fact that at least he got to hear her voice. But it only served to remind him how much he missed talking with her.
"Hi, Mon, it's me. It's Saturday afternoon. I thought maybe I'd catch you at home. I hope you're doing well. I received your package. Thank you so much. What can I say? I'm so pathetic. I've been trying to write you a letter all week. I guess I'm not as good a writer as I always thought I would be. I'm enjoying your cookies, even though they aren't chocolate chip. You definitely fooled me, and I know you love hearing me say that. The pictures are so special to me. I did as you requested with the one of us. It definitely brightens up my office. Hey, Rach. Hope you're having fun with the wedding plans. How's everyone else? Tell them I said 'hi'. It was great to hear your voice, Mon, even if it was just the answering machine message. I miss you. I miss all of you. I'm looking forward to seeing you in three weeks. Hopefully, Mon, we'll get to talk before then. Bye."
Chandler didn't think it was possible to feel worse after finally contacting Monica. But...he did.
He finished his lunch without even tasting it and then took the long way back to his office. After all, nothing waited for him there except more work.
*~*
"Phoebe and Monica have their dresses," Rachel announced excitedly, as the three women strolled into Joey's apartment late Saturday afternoon.
Monica tolerated seeing Ross and Rachel, as well as Phoebe and Joey, kiss each other "hello" because at least now she could say she was dating someone.
"What's everyone doing tonight?" Phoebe asked. "I wrote a new song, and I want to sing it at the coffeehouse. Will you guys be there?"
"Of course, we will."
"I love your songs. Is it about me?" Joey inquired, his dark eyes lighting up.
"Isn't he the cutest thing?" Phoebe asked the group who all nodded, except for Ross, who instead rolled his eyes. "But no. Sorry, Joey. I haven't been inspired yet. Keep checking with me, though, because you never know."
Joey shrugged. "That's okay. I'll go to the coffeehouse anyway."
"Let's all meet," Rachel said, now sitting on Ross' lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. "We haven't been there all week. Gunther will think we all moved to Connecticut."
At the mention of Connecticut, Monica felt a pang and told herself not to give in to it.
"I think that's a great idea," she said, a little too enthusiastically. "If you guys don't mind, I'm going to call Eric and invite him to join us."
"Oh, good idea," Phoebe said. "I love playing for new people. Oh yay! We get to meet Eric, but more importantly, he gets to meet us."
Monica smiled and nodded. "I'll be right back."
"Where ya goin', Mon?" Joey asked.
"To call Eric."
"You can use my phone. I did pay the bill."
"But his number is in my apartment. I'll be right back."
Monica crossed the hall and entered her apartment. She had placed the paper with Eric's phone number in her address book. She retrieved the book from her bedroom, set it next to the phone, and then plopped down on the white sofa, ready to lift the receiver to call him. She stopped when she saw the blinking red message light. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be? She had almost given up hope. Not hearing from Chandler all week had hurt. She knew he was busy, and she knew he was trying to make changes in his life, but he had said he would keep in touch.
Stop shaking, she told herself, and push the button to listen to the message. She tried to convince herself that it probably wasn't Chandler who had left the message. She told herself it could be from anyone, including someone calling for Rachel about the wedding. But, somehow, Monica knew Chandler had been the one to call and leave a message. When she finally heard his voice, she fell back against the couch and breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally contacted her. Clutching a pillow to her chest, she closed her eyes and listened intently to his somewhat rambling but endearing message. He didn't sound good was her first thought. He sounded agitated and uncomfortable like there was something else he wanted to say but never did. The message ended too soon; Monica shot up and replayed it. She listened to it three more times before finally saving it.
Ready to look up Chandler's number, her eyes fell to the piece of paper lying on top of her address book. Eric! That's who she had been about to call. How quickly she had forgotten about him. Torn between needing to call Eric because she had said she would and desperately wanting to call Chandler because hearing his voice had made her miss him that much more, she finally, reluctantly, opted for the former. This time, it was Chandler who would have to wait.
Chapter 10
On Monday, Chandler honored Monica's request by prominently displaying the silver-framed photo on his mahogany desk at work. It was, after all, where he spent the majority of his time.
Whenever he had a spare minute or needed to take a break from looking at spreadsheets, he worked on composing his letter to Monica. As he tried to put his thoughts to paper, his eyes would drift to the telephone. Calling would be so much easier.
"Come on, you can do this," he encouraged himself, while gazing at the photo.
"Do what?"
Chandler, who had been so focused on the picture, hadn't realized he was no longer alone. Riley Cooper, the senior project manager in the Bridgeport office, stood just inside Chandler's office. He looked to be Chandler's age and had a similar build. The two had formed an amicable relationship while working towards the same goal.
"Are you a letter writer?" Chandler asked.
"No, not really."
"Neither am I, but I'm trying."
"Your secretary, Paula, is a wiz at composing letters. Why don't you ask her?"
"This is of a personal nature."
"Oh. Writing to someone special?" he asked and then grinned.
"Yes, I am. But enough about that. What do you have there?"
Chandler had finally noticed that Riley carried a bulky file folder in his hands.
"Mind if I sit?"
"Go ahead."
Riley took a seat and then placed the manila folder on Chandler's desk.
"We received the latest projections. They don't look good. I'm seeing lots of overtime in our future."
"That's fine for me. I have nothing but time. Thanks for the heads up. I'll review the file today."
"There are also a couple of milestone dates coming up. If we meet those goals, this project will definitely be back on the right track, and we'll have you to thank."
"What are the dates?" Chandler asked, reaching for his calendar to write down the information.
"Four weeks from today is the first one. I hope you like this office because I have a feeling you will be sleeping here that whole weekend."
Chandler sat back in his chair and sighed.
"Actually, I won't be. I have a very important event to attend in upstate New York. I wasn't planning to be here at all that weekend. My intention was to devote as much time as I could to this project and reward myself by taking that weekend off."
Riley frowned. "That's not what I wanted to hear. Will you be available by cell phone?"
"I hadn't thought about it, but I could be. Sure. I'll tell Ross beforehand. He'll understand. I'm attending his engagement party. He's been one of my best friends since college. I'm his best man. I have to be there, but if need be, I can be here on Sunday."
"As long as we can reach you by phone, I think we'll be all right. Hopefully, the majority of the work will be done before then anyway. So, attending an engagement party. Sounds like fun. It's weird. I got a quick flashback when you mentioned the name Ross. When I was growing up, I lived three houses away from a family who had a son named Ross. We hung out together sometimes, mostly at school, and then my family moved. I haven't thought about him in years. He had a sister, too, but I can't think of her name."
"How about Monica? Does that ring any bells?"
"Monica! Yes! Geller, right? Ross and Monica Geller. Ross, he was okay, but Monica, wow, now it's all coming back to me. Man, was she fat. All she did was eat and gain weight. I remember one time she actually took Ross' food away from him. What a loser. Do you ever see her? What does she look like now? Is she still fat?"
It took everything he had, but Chandler managed to hold his temper in check at his co-worker's careless and rudely spoken words. Still, he wanted Riley to know he had no right to talk that way about Monica and that he would not tolerate such cruel comments about his friend. "Not that your callous questions deserve an answer, but I need to set the record straight. Monica is an extraordinary and lovely woman," he informed Riley, his tone icy. "Do not insult her again."
"I'm sorry," Riley said. He could see he had angered Chandler. "I didn't realize you cared so much about her."
"Well, I do, and I don't appreciate it when someone thinks nothing of offending her. Especially when she's not here to defend herself. And, anyway, in this case, you couldn't be more wrong."
Against his better judgment but knowing Riley would feel like a heel for what he said about Monica, Chandler showed him the photo. Riley whistled appreciatively.
"I'd never have known that was her if you didn't tell me. I do apologize. She definitely got her act together."
"Yes, she did. But there's so much more to her than just her looks. You couldn't even begin to understand."
"Well, excuse me," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "So, you guys look like you're having a good time in this photo. Is she the one you're trying to correspond with?"
"Yes," Chandler admitted uneasily.
"Why? Why are you wasting your time with a letter? Call her. Don't you want to hear her voice? Don't you want to be with her? Why isn't she here? More importantly, why did you leave NYC to come here if this is who you left behind? You must be crazy!"
"I'm beginning to think I am. But it's not like that, Riley. We're not together. At least, not the way you mean."
"Why the hell not? You couldn't look happier in this photo, and you couldn't look more miserable sitting behind that desk."
"I know, but it's complicated. You don't know our history."
"So, your solution to this complication was to come to Bridgeport and leave her in NYC? This woman," he said, pointing to the frame, "is hot! Are you blind?"
"No, I'm not blind," Chandler said, snatching the frame out of Riley's hands. He knew it had been a mistake to show him the picture. "I know exactly how hot Monica is. You don't need to advertise it."
"This is the ol' I don't get to have her, so no one else can either routine, isn't it?"
"No," Chandler denied. "I'm trying to show respect for my friend."
"If I weren't married, Chandler, I'd definitely have to renew an old acquaintance."
"Well, you are married, so forget about it. And don't talk about this with anyone around here. This is my personal business. You got that?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever. I give this whole arrangement of yours a month, tops. You're used to seeing and talking with her everyday, Chandler. You're never gonna make it."
"I am committed to this project," Chandler asserted.
"I'm not doubting that you are, but I'm just wondering how effective you can be when you obviously accepted this assignment for all the wrong reasons."
*~*
With the evening hours quickly approaching, Chandler continued to review the latest projections, despite a pounding headache and Riley's earlier words still echoing in his mind. He would work all night if he had to because he intended to prove his colleague wrong. This project would be completed on time and under budget because that's what he had promised the New York office when he'd accepted the assignment. For once in his life, even if it wasn't for the right reasons, he was going to honor his commitment. Because if he didn't, what hope did he have that he would ever be able to change?
*~*
"So," Rachel asked, later that night when Monica entered her apartment, "how did it go with Eric?"
After she'd accepted the invitation, Monica panicked and had called Rachel, who calmed her down and told her she should go out with him. Despite her earlier misgivings, Monica had a rather enjoyable time.
"It was nice," Monica admitted. "We went to a jazz club, listened to some good music, had two glasses of wine and got to know one another better."
She purposely didn't tell her friend that when Eric had tried to kiss her goodnight, she politely declined.
"Any sparks?" Rachel asked.
"Not really. Maybe on his part, but not on mine. I don't suppose we had any interesting phone messages or phone calls?"
"You mean from a certain someone in Bridgeport? Sorry, Mon," Rachel said sympathetically. "You didn't hear from him."
*~*
Over the course of the next week, Eric continued his pursuit of Monica; she let him. They went to a movie on Wednesday night and out to dinner Friday evening. He wanted to spend Saturday with her, but she told him she was going shopping with her friends Rachel and Phoebe to look for a bridesmaid dress.
"You're going to be in a wedding?"
"Yes. My brother Ross is marrying Rachel, who is one of my dearest friends. I'm going to be the maid of honor. They're having a Christmas wedding."
"Sounds nice. Even though you're not the one getting married, I bet you'll be the most beautiful woman there."
Monica blushed. She couldn't help it. It had been a long time since a man had been so blatant in his desire for her. She basked in his attention. This time, when he leaned in to kiss her goodnight, she let him. She let herself enjoy it, too.
*~*
Chandler stared at the computer monitor. With nothing better to do, he decided to spend Saturday at the office. The first milestone date was three weeks away, and he knew he had much more to accomplish. But his mind wasn't on statistics and budgets; it was on Monica. The week had gone by without him finishing the letter he'd promised himself he would write. Now, as he stared at the blank document on his word processing program, he knew he wouldn't be able to put his thoughts into words.
And you said you wanted to be a writer. He mocked himself for his lack of ability to construct two complete sentences in a note to Monica. Monica! The one he'd never had trouble communicating with.
What is wrong with you?
With his frustration mounting, he finally turned off the computer and focused his attention elsewhere. He desperately needed a distraction; unfortunately, even though it should have been, on this particular day, work was not the answer.
He left the office and walked, in the heat of the summer afternoon, to a restaurant that catered to the office-building employees in the area. The menu was limited on the weekends, but Chandler didn't care. A cheeseburger and fries sounded like a gourmet meal to him.
He sat in a corner booth of the relatively empty diner and tried to read the newspaper, but he soon realized he didn't care about current events. All he cared about, at that moment, was talking to Monica.
After he'd taken a bite of his burger and had dipped a few French fries in ketchup, he reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He quickly punched the numbers he knew by heart.
He shifted positions on the vinyl seat when he got the answering machine. Maybe she's screening her calls, he thought. He took some consolation in the fact that at least he got to hear her voice. But it only served to remind him how much he missed talking with her.
"Hi, Mon, it's me. It's Saturday afternoon. I thought maybe I'd catch you at home. I hope you're doing well. I received your package. Thank you so much. What can I say? I'm so pathetic. I've been trying to write you a letter all week. I guess I'm not as good a writer as I always thought I would be. I'm enjoying your cookies, even though they aren't chocolate chip. You definitely fooled me, and I know you love hearing me say that. The pictures are so special to me. I did as you requested with the one of us. It definitely brightens up my office. Hey, Rach. Hope you're having fun with the wedding plans. How's everyone else? Tell them I said 'hi'. It was great to hear your voice, Mon, even if it was just the answering machine message. I miss you. I miss all of you. I'm looking forward to seeing you in three weeks. Hopefully, Mon, we'll get to talk before then. Bye."
Chandler didn't think it was possible to feel worse after finally contacting Monica. But...he did.
He finished his lunch without even tasting it and then took the long way back to his office. After all, nothing waited for him there except more work.
*~*
"Phoebe and Monica have their dresses," Rachel announced excitedly, as the three women strolled into Joey's apartment late Saturday afternoon.
Monica tolerated seeing Ross and Rachel, as well as Phoebe and Joey, kiss each other "hello" because at least now she could say she was dating someone.
"What's everyone doing tonight?" Phoebe asked. "I wrote a new song, and I want to sing it at the coffeehouse. Will you guys be there?"
"Of course, we will."
"I love your songs. Is it about me?" Joey inquired, his dark eyes lighting up.
"Isn't he the cutest thing?" Phoebe asked the group who all nodded, except for Ross, who instead rolled his eyes. "But no. Sorry, Joey. I haven't been inspired yet. Keep checking with me, though, because you never know."
Joey shrugged. "That's okay. I'll go to the coffeehouse anyway."
"Let's all meet," Rachel said, now sitting on Ross' lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. "We haven't been there all week. Gunther will think we all moved to Connecticut."
At the mention of Connecticut, Monica felt a pang and told herself not to give in to it.
"I think that's a great idea," she said, a little too enthusiastically. "If you guys don't mind, I'm going to call Eric and invite him to join us."
"Oh, good idea," Phoebe said. "I love playing for new people. Oh yay! We get to meet Eric, but more importantly, he gets to meet us."
Monica smiled and nodded. "I'll be right back."
"Where ya goin', Mon?" Joey asked.
"To call Eric."
"You can use my phone. I did pay the bill."
"But his number is in my apartment. I'll be right back."
Monica crossed the hall and entered her apartment. She had placed the paper with Eric's phone number in her address book. She retrieved the book from her bedroom, set it next to the phone, and then plopped down on the white sofa, ready to lift the receiver to call him. She stopped when she saw the blinking red message light. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be? She had almost given up hope. Not hearing from Chandler all week had hurt. She knew he was busy, and she knew he was trying to make changes in his life, but he had said he would keep in touch.
Stop shaking, she told herself, and push the button to listen to the message. She tried to convince herself that it probably wasn't Chandler who had left the message. She told herself it could be from anyone, including someone calling for Rachel about the wedding. But, somehow, Monica knew Chandler had been the one to call and leave a message. When she finally heard his voice, she fell back against the couch and breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally contacted her. Clutching a pillow to her chest, she closed her eyes and listened intently to his somewhat rambling but endearing message. He didn't sound good was her first thought. He sounded agitated and uncomfortable like there was something else he wanted to say but never did. The message ended too soon; Monica shot up and replayed it. She listened to it three more times before finally saving it.
Ready to look up Chandler's number, her eyes fell to the piece of paper lying on top of her address book. Eric! That's who she had been about to call. How quickly she had forgotten about him. Torn between needing to call Eric because she had said she would and desperately wanting to call Chandler because hearing his voice had made her miss him that much more, she finally, reluctantly, opted for the former. This time, it was Chandler who would have to wait.