Hey my friends!
No, I didn't forget about this, I promise! I hit a bit of a rut, but I think it's safe to say that I'm out of it now. But I'm sorry for the delay! Better late than never, right? :)
You all, again, have been amazing and awesome with your kind words and love for this one. I appreciate it, SO much!
Much love!
Thursday, June 17, 1999 - 8:37 PM
Joey looked between Monica and Chandler, the only two friends left in the coffee house other than himself.
Earlier, it almost felt like normal again. The six of them were there, Phoebe in the green chair on the left, Monica, Rachel, and Joey on the couch, Chandler and Ross at the small table to the right.
The conversation flowed easily from one subject to the next, with laughs and chuckles and the slight teasing of each other like it used to be.
Joey found it to be the best night he'd had with his friends in a long, long time, and a large part of him was disappointed that the other three had left.
He cleared his throat at the tension that was suddenly thick in the air, then his eyes met Chandler's, "So um," Joey started, trying to think of something, anything to get the conversation between them flowing again, "yesterday, on set, I saw a frog on the floor."
Chandler lifted his eyebrows at his friend, "Wow, Joe," he said softly, then glanced over at Monica, who smiled at him, "that's…fascinating."
Monica laughed and patted Joey's shoulder, "I think that's one of your best stories."
Chandler shook his head at his roommate and chuckled softly again.
He rubbed his hands together nervously and took in a deep breath. Now was the time.
It was a good time to get this weight off of his shoulders that Phoebe put there. Now that he could clearly see that he was in the wrong, he desperately wanted to make things better between him and Monica, even if only a little.
Chandler had selfishly only worried about his feelings and how Monica being with Richard affected him. He had the overwhelming urge to talk to her and apologize to her about the past couple of months.
He glanced over at her and then back at Joey, gesturing with his eyes towards the door. He lifted his eyebrows at Joey when Monica wasn't looking.
Joey returned the lifted eyebrows in response, silently questioning his friend. Chandler nodded just slightly to affirm that yes, he wanted to be alone with Monica.
Joey nodded back at him and then turned and pat Monica's knee, "I'm gonna head upstairs," he told her, "Night Mon."
Monica nodded and smiled slightly at her friend, "Goodnight, Joe."
She glanced over at Chandler as Joey left the coffee house, surprised when he made no move to stand up and leave with his roommate, because it had become the norm for him to do so.
Chandler sighed and leaned all the way forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes staring at his hands as they rubbed together.
She swallowed as she watched him, knowing instantly that he was uncomfortable, because she knew him.
Her eyes fell to her own hands, then back up at him as the silence continued. The only sounds were the quiet chatter and occasional laughter of the few other people that were left in the coffee house and noises of the cappuccino maker as it whirred often behind them.
She sighed and it made him finally look up at her, "I guess I'm going to go too, then," she said with as much confidence as she could. She gripped her purse strap tighter and stood, walking around the couch.
He stood quickly and shook his head, "No, wait, um, I mean…" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. She stopped mid-stride and looked over at him, "Can I talk to you for a second, please?"
Her eyes widened and her heart sped up its pace just a bit. "Sure," she said, her voice shaking slightly. She sat in the same spot on the right side of the couch and watched with her eyes as he sat on the left.
He sighed and shook his head, then, after a long, silent few seconds, chuckled at himself and this moment. She lifted an eyebrow in confusion at him, and he finally lifted his head to look at her, "I can't believe how hard this is," he whispered softly.
She let the corner of her mouth pull up in a tiny smile, "It doesn't feel real, does it?"
He kept her gaze for a second, shook his head, then dropped it as another wave of silence washed over them.
"I think they got a new cappuccino machine," Monica finally said, and Chandler lifted his head and turned around to eye the large, metal contraption behind them.
He nodded a little, "Yeah, seems…shinier." He looked over at her and lifted his eyebrows, "Sooooo…" he started, but stopped, still unsure of how to start this impossible conversation with her.
She pressed her lips together for a moment and had to resist the chuckle that was bubbling in her throat at the ridiculous amount of tension in the air between them, "Soooo…" She returned softly.
He looked over at her, finally letting a wide smile take over his face, then both of them began to laugh.
Monica felt so much relief just laughing with him again, even if only for a moment. He finally stopped chuckling and made eye contact with her, and somehow, his perfect blue eyes seemed even bluer.
She missed laughing. She missed this. She missed him.
He broke the stare between them, cleared his throat, and took in another breath, "So, listen, Mon, I um…" he shook his head at himself, "I was stupid."
She lifted an eyebrow as she stared at the side of his face, "What?"
He kept his eyes on the cuticle he was picking at and not on her, "I had feelings for you long before Colorado," he finally started, "and I pretended they weren't real, or that I would just, I don't know," he sighed, "get over them, I guess."
Monica swallowed nervously but stayed silent.
"So while we were there and we um," he chuckled once, "we did what we did," he paused again, and Monica wondered if he was thinking about what they did, because she definitely was. If he only knew how often she thought about it, how it permeated her thoughts more often than it should have.
"It wasn't fair of me to think you were going to suddenly have the same feelings I did," he finally continued, "and I think I handled the situation wrong."
She slowly looked up at him and fought the tears that wanted to come to her eyes, "I didn't think there was any way that you didn't feel what I felt when I kissed you," he swallowed and finally looked up at her, "and I kind of took that and ran with it." He resisted the urge to reach over and take her hand. He wanted to touch her, feel her skin against his, but he knew it wasn't appropriate.
"I shouldn't have done that," he continued, "and then after I got home and saw you with Richard," he stopped and shook his head, "I just, I really didn't want to believe that you could possibly still want to be with him…"
A shiver ran up then back down her spine at his words. He didn't know, but he only made her realize more that her decision to jump back into Richard's life like she did was a mistake.
"…but it's not my place to make your love life decisions for you."
She remained quiet, listening and watching him speak the words that she knew were very hard for him.
"I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't wish you wanted me when I got home like I wanted you, because dear God, it was exactly what I had drawn up in my head. And I think that coupled with my feelings for you just kind of made me…" he sighed, "…an idiot and a bastard towards you."
A tear finally ran down her face, but she lifted her hand to wipe it away before he saw it.
"Then to make things worse, I tell you that I'm in love with you when you were already dating Richard again."
"Well, Chandler, I…"
"Wait," he interrupted, "please just, let me get this out, okay?"
She sighed and nodded once at him, "I don't think I gave you a chance to figure things out, for yourself," he finally continued, "and it wasn't right of me to push you away like I have been or tell you that I think we can't be friends anymore."
A fresh batch of tears sprang to her eyes at his words, and she watched as he shifted in his seat and made eye contact with her again, "I never want that, Monica. God, I…" he sighed and ran a hand over his face, "…I can't even picture life without you."
"I never want that either," she whispered softly. He nodded slowly at her.
"I need you to know that I'm sorry," he finally said, his eyes continuously on her now, "I'm sorry that I have been selfish and only thinking about how all of this was affecting me. I didn't think about how I made you feel, and it was incredibly stupid of me."
Monica watched as he cleared the lump in his throat, "But I also want you to know that I um…" he swallowed again, "I still think I should keep my distance from you, at least until I can move on a little from…this," he gestured between them, "and I think that if I do that, it will be better for your relationship with Richard. You don't need me."
She shut her eyes for a second, God, that was wrong, she did need him.
Her eyes darted to the side of his face, but he continued before she said anything, "You don't need me around when I'm probably rolling my eyes when I see him touch you or scoffing out loud when he kisses you. He has every right to do all those things. He's your boyfriend, and you love him, and I've got to man up and respect that."
Monica shook her head, thinking about how wrong that statement was.
She sighed, broke eye contact with him, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She wanted to tell him everything that happened between her and Richard over the past couple of weeks, but she didn't think that would be fair.
"So, um, that's what I wanted to say," he told her, then let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.
He wanted to apologize, needed to apologize, and now he'd done it.
She made herself look up at him and again, fought tears that were threatening to fall. She moved over just a bit closer to him on the couch and grabbed his hand, making him snap his head up to look at her, "Thank you, Chandler," she finally managed to say.
He gripped her hand tightly and let out another breath, "There's no reason to thank me," he replied softly, "if you are happy…" he stopped and met her eyes, and he swore he didn't see the happiness that used to be there. There was something different, and he was curious as to what it was.
He cleared his throat and made himself focus on talking to her, "…then I'm going to try and be happy for you. And be your friend."
Another tear left her eye at both the relief she felt and the whirlwind in her mind he'd just caused. She had so much to tell him, so much that she wanted to say.
But she couldn't, not now.
"Are you happy, Monica?" He asked, his eyes intense as they stared directly into hers.
She was sure that he could feel her pulse through the veins in her hand because, dear God, her incredibly fast beating heart was all she could focus on.
She hardened her exterior and nodded just a little at him, "I, uh," she started, and she wondered if he could hear the shake in her voice as prominently as she could, "I will be." She finally said.
He swallowed nervously and nodded slowly at her. The same feeling, the feeling that had passed between them so many times in the past two months, passed between them again. It was a sort of cliche spark that he still didn't know how to explain.
"I should…go," he whispered to her, finally breaking eye contact, and looking away from her.
Monica let go of his hand and nodded at him, "Yeah, um, me too," she replied, just as soft.
The two of them stood in sync, then headed toward the door at the same time. He opened the door for her, and she stepped out onto the sidewalk but stopped walking when she realized that he wasn't walking next to her.
"I'm going to uh, go for a walk," he said to her, a very small smile on his face.
She tilted her head at him just a bit, "Are you okay?" She asked softly.
He nodded and smiled just a little at her, "Yeah, I'm okay," he returned with another nod of his head, "I just want some fresh air."
"Okay," she returned, then resisted the urge to tell him to be careful alone and at night in New York, "I'll um, see you later, then," she said instead.
"Goodnight, Mon." He said softly.
"Night, Chandler," she replied, then kept eye contact with him until he finally turned and walked away from her.
Monica shut her eyes and took in a long breath of fresh air that he said he needed too.
She knew what she needed to do.
And she knew she needed to do it soon.
Friday, June 18, 1999 - 8:22 AM
Chandler entered the break room and ran a hand through his hair as he approached the coffee pot. He poured a touch of creamer on top of the coffee and stirred the hot liquid, taking a long sip of it afterward.
Things felt different now. He was more at ease after the conversation with Monica yesterday. Nothing was really changed between them, because it couldn't be, but he definitely felt better than before about everything that happened between them.
He began to walk out of the break room to return to his desk when he almost ran into someone and nearly spilled his freshly poured coffee all over himself and her.
"So sorry, Chandler," Annie said with a chuckle, "I didn't hear you in here."
He smiled and let out a slight sigh of relief that he wasn't currently suffering from second degree burns, "No problem," he responded, "glad those balancing acts and Clown University paid off for me," he said.
Annie began to laugh, and while it was his intention to make her laugh, he didn't think the joke was that funny. He smiled back at her anyway.
"Oh, Chandler," she started, then chuckled again as she placed a hand on his non-coffee-bearing arm, "you're so funny." He pressed his lips together for a second, then took a sip of his drink as she continued speaking to him, "Ah, well, I think I should probably call you Mr. Bing, now, right? Mr. National Vice President guy!"
Chandler forced a small smile towards her, "Nah, you don't have to do that. You can just call me Mr. National Vice President Guy. That has a nice ring to it."
She went into a fit of laughter again and Chandler lifted his eyebrows at her as he sipped on his coffee. She was attractive, she obviously thought he was funny, and, as an added bonus, her laugh didn't drive him crazy.
Maybe this was what he needed to move on.
He watched her body move as she walked over to the counter, her long, light brown hair almost looked like silk as it brushed against her back when her head turned. She had pretty brown eyes, a beautiful smile, well dressed and seemed to be into him. Maybe it was worth a shot.
He returned his focus to what she was saying, "…and anyway, I haven't had a chance to tell you congratulations yet, so, congratulations on your promotion. You deserve it."
He smiled a little more at her, "Well, thanks, Annie."
"Seriously," she continued as she poured her own cup of coffee, "you were clearly the best choice. You know, I heard they were going to consider that Rico guy if you turned it down," she shook her head conspiratorially and moved closer to him so that she could whisper, "that would have been a disaster."
Chandler chuckled lowly in his throat, "That wouldn't be good," he responded softly.
She smiled brightly at him, "Alright, it's been nice talking to you," she said, then slowly walked past him, "have a good day, Mr. National Vice President Guy."
Chandler shut his eyes for a second, then opened them before she made it out of the break room, "Hey, Annie, wait," he called, and she stopped and turned back to him, "would you be interested in maybe going out to dinner with me?"
She grinned at him and leaned against the door frame, "It's about time," she said softly, then nodded at him, "I'd love to." She pulled her pen from behind her ear and took his hand, then wrote her phone number on it.
He smiled back at her, "Okay, I'll call you tonight."
She winked at him, "Can't wait."
He watched her as she walked away, then looked down at the fresh ink on his skin. He took a long sip of his coffee, wondering if he actually could get Monica off his mind long enough to go out on a date and act like a normal human being.
It was time for him to try to move on.
It was time.
Friday, June 18, 1999 - 7:23 PM
Monica looked down at her watch again as her leg nervously bounced up and down as she waited.
She had to talk to him, it was almost essential now.
Her stomach was in knots, so much so that it was making her nauseous. She and Richard were supposed to have dinner reservations tonight, but she didn't know if she could make her stomach settle enough to enjoy any food.
But she didn't think dinner would happen at this point anyway. After the phone call with Michelle, the following argument with Richard, and all of her feelings regarding Chandler, she knew her relationship with Richard couldn't continue.
She shut her eyes, leaned her head on her hand, and took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down.
She could do this.
The knock on the door nearly made her jump out of her skin. She let out one more slow, deep breath and stood, walking slowly to the door.
When she opened it, the overbearing grin on Richard's face instantly confused her. She put on a smile and hoped it seemed as genuine as his did, "Hey honey!" He exclaimed, and she stepped to the side and allowed him and the box he held in his hands inside.
"Hey," she said, then tilted her head up when he kissed her.
She watched him as he practically skipped to her kitchen table, the smile beneath his mustache never left his face, "I've got something for you," he said as she walked around the counter and stood next to the table with him.
"What?" She asked nervously.
"Come sit," he said, then pulled out one of the chairs for her, then sat down in the one next to it.
She gripped the chair and sighed, shaking her head just slightly, "Richard, I need to talk to you about something," she managed softly.
He patted the chair, "Come on honey, sit. I'm really excited to give this to you. I think you're really going to love it."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and said a silent prayer for her stomach to settle just a little. She sighed and gave in, sitting down in the chair slowly. She crossed her arms on the table.
He slid the box over to her and grinned, "Open it," he encouraged.
Monica put her hands on the gift, looked down at it, then back up at him, "Why did you get me a gift?" She asked, her voice shaking just a little.
Richard chuckled, put his hand on top of hers and squeezed her hand, "You'll see when you open it," he winked at her when she looked up at him.
"Okay," she responded softly, then slowly pulled the lid from the top. Inside was a perfect envelope with the printed script You Are Cordially Invited on the front of it.
She glanced up at him and he nodded at her excitedly, so she let out a sigh and picked up the envelope. She didn't know what was inside, but it wasn't helping the anxiety that was all through her stomach and entire body.
She pulled the linen paper from the envelope and unfolded it, looking down at the script, "Dr. Burke, Congratulations! You have been chosen to attend the formal New York State Dinner of Physicians," she read aloud, then peered over the paper at him, "That's what they named it?"
He chuckled, "Yeah, well," he shrugged.
"Original," she said, a laugh that she was trying to resist bubbling in her throat.
"But, Mon, honey, it's like the event to be invited to. I mean, out of all the doctors in New York, only twenty-five are chosen each year. And they picked me!"
Monica plastered a smile on her face, "Oh, well, that's great!" She looked away from him and he placed his hand on her arm.
"I get to bring a guest," he added, "and I want to bring the one that's gonna make me look really good." She only continued to stare at the paper in her hands, "I mean you, dear."
She briefly met his eyes and chuckled nervously, "It's tomorrow," she said, then shook her head, "I'm not sure I can find a dress in time."
He grinned again as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear, "I thought you might say that," he said, "wait right there." He stood from the table and she watched him walk out of the kitchen and then continue out of the door. Monica's eyes drifted back to the invitation in her hands.
It looked fancy, over-the-top, and just like the kind of event she didn't feel like attending.
She had other plans.
He walked back in with a long garment bag that he held high in the air and walked back towards her, "This is for you," he said.
She felt her mouth fall open a little, "Richard, I…"
"I want you to join me," he interrupted, "you will always be my plus one, and I can't think of a more beautiful one than you."
She smiled just a little, "Oh, that's so sweet," she said, but the turning in her stomach hadn't stopped. She wanted to talk to him, she needed to talk to him, and it sounded like that couldn't happen tonight, or tomorrow, or on Sunday either.
Damn it.
"Come see your new dress," he said, gesturing to the white garment bag in his hands.
Monica made herself get out of her thoughts and slowly stood from the table. She approached him, gripped the tiny zipper, and unzipped it halfway down, then admired the deep red fabric inside. Her fingers touched the material, wishing she could wear it for almost anything else.
She had to begrudgingly admit, it was stunning. "It's beautiful," she said to him.
He smiled at her like that thrilled him to no end, "Yeah? You like it?" He asked. She nodded at him, "I got your size from Rachel," he told her, "You're going to be the most beautiful woman in the room."
Once again, a shiver ran down her spine. It was the same words Chandler said to her in London, when she felt lower than dirt from the intoxicated guy's words about being Ross's mother.
She smiled at him and stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, then pulled him down for a hug, "Thank you, it's beautiful."
He squeezed her tight, "I can't wait to see you in it," he responded.
Monica shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. He pulled away from her then, but didn't let her go, his arms locked behind her at the small of her back. "So, we'll go to the dinner, which, by the way, I think you're going to be very impressed with. I've heard it's amazing."
She smiled a little and brushed her hands over his chest, "That sounds great," she murmured.
"Yeah," he replied, "and after we're done there, I've rented us a beautiful cabin down in Connecticut. We can spend the weekend together in a wonderful cabin, right on the lake with stunning scenery and a private beach. You're going to love it," he whispered softly. Monica sighed softly and quickly shut her eyes as he kissed her again, "I think a weekend to ourselves will be good for us, don't you think?"
She cleared her throat and smiled at him just a little, "Of course" she managed weakly.
This was definitely not the weekend she had in mind.
Saturday, June 20, 1999 - 1:34 AM
"I can't stand this," Rachel groaned, then ran her hands through her hair. She and the other people anticipating answers regarding Ross were sitting in various seats around the hospital's waiting room.
She sat next to Chandler, who held a cup of coffee in his hand, sipping on it slowly and seemed to be just as restless as she was.
It didn't go unnoticed by Rachel, though, that Chandler kept glancing across the room at Monica, and Rachel had caught Monica glancing at him, too.
She wondered how long this thing between her two friends had been going on. Had she just been blind to it? Or did they become very good at hiding it? She didn't know, but it was painfully obvious that there was something going on between them now.
Chandler looked over at her and rubbed his own eyes, "I know," he said and put his arm around her back to squeeze her shoulder.
Another wave of emotion hit her as she began to think about Ross and all the things that felt unfinished between them.
"I hate this," she murmured as she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. He moved his hand to rub her back a little while she cried, her face buried in her hands.
"Come on Ross don't do this to us," he whispered to himself, shaking his head.
She took in a deep, calming breath and sat up, wiping her face, groaning just a little, "I'm sick of crying. He's gonna be okay, right? I mean, he has to be."
Chandler nodded, "Yeah, he's going to be okay," he said as confidently as he could.
"If he's not, I'm going to kill him."
Chandler smirked and nodded at her, "He'll deserve it." Silence filled the space between them and Chandler sat back in the lobby chair. He glanced up at Monica again and kept his eyes on her when he realized that she wasn't looking back at him.
She was tired, he could tell. The bags under her eyes and the continuous worried look on her face made him ache to go over there and sit next to her, comfort her and tell her everything was going to be okay, just like he did for Rachel.
But he couldn't.
Rachel sighed and sat up straight in her chair, "Ok, I need to get a grip," she said firmly, then wiped underneath her eyes. "Ross is going to be fine, that's what we're saying, right, Chandler?" She turned and looked at him and studied the side of his face for several seconds as he concentrated on Monica, seemingly unaware that she had said a word to him. She shook her head in disbelief at herself that she didn't see it before, the love written all over his face. "How long has it been?"
Chandler tore his stare from Monica to look over at her again, "What?"
She rubbed her shoulder against his, "How long have you been in love with her?"
He scratched the back of his head, then leaned forward again, his elbows on his knees. "She told you, huh?"
Rachel shrugged, then nodded, "I knew something was up."
Chandler sighed and shook his head, "Ah, does it really matter, Rach?"
"Yes, it matters, Chandler. Do you think we like you guys like this?"
He lifted an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"
"She's been so weird lately, around me, around everybody. You aren't coming around much. It's different, and we notice it." She poked his arm, "It's obvious you two aren't like you used to be. You rarely speak to each other."
"That's true," he confirmed, but then shook his head, "we talked a little on Thursday, and that was the most we've talked since we got home from London."
"Did something happen in London?"
He looked over at her and slowly shook his head again, "No," he chuckled, "I feel like there are these moments. Since Colorado, that's what Monica and I get, moments of how it used to be between us."
Rachel furrowed her eyebrows together and glanced over at Monica, "She misses you."
"Yeah, I miss her too, Rach. I do. But after Ross said your name at the altar, I realized that I will probably never get over her. Just like Ross has never got over you."
Rachel tilted her head and lifted a hand to wipe another tear away, "I don't know about that." She murmured.
He rolled his eyes and decided to save that argument for later when he could have it with Ross too. "Eventually, I had enough. The thoughts in my head of what my life was going to be like overwhelmed me. I told her that I didn't want to do this anymore and that I was going to request to be transferred to another city for work. I wanted to get far away from New York and from Monica."
"What? Chandler you can't…"
He held up his hand to stop her alarm, "I'm not. When I got back and asked about transferring, Doug offered me a great promotion to stay here, and I took it."
Rachel sighed and placed her hand on his leg, "Good. You shouldn't run away from her like that."
"Yeah, another point Phoebe made," he responded.
"What did you talk on Thursday about?" She asked. Not only did she want to know what was going on with her friends, but she wanted the distraction from the reality of Ross.
He glanced across the room at her, "Us," he said simply.
"You talked about your relationship?"
He chuckled lightly, "Or lack thereof."
Rachel looked at him quizzically, wanting more information from him.
He sighed deeply, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Phoebe helped me realize how wrong I've been handling everything. After she and I talked, I felt like I really needed to apologize to Monica after the way I acted towards her."
"Staying away from her?" Rachel asked.
He nodded, "Yeah, well," he shrugged, "I told her that I was sorry for blaming her for all of what we've been through, when it really isn't her fault."
She smiled just a little, "That was nice of you."
"I told her that I still needed to stay away from her, and from them, though," he continued softly.
Rachel narrowed her eyes a little bit, "Chandler, honey, honestly, I think one of the reasons she's been in such a funk is because you haven't been around."
He shut his eyes, "No," he sighed, "she's in a funk because she's in love with Richard, and me telling her that I…" he groaned and shook his head, "I didn't help things," he finally said.
Rachel sighed and looked over at Monica as she shifted in her seat uncomfortably again, "I really don't think that's accurate."
"Why do you say that?" He asked, but she pressed her lips together as a response.
"I need you not to get upset with me for asking you this," she started, and he looked over at her again, "but are you sure you're in love with her? I mean, what if it's just a part of you wanting a companion and someone to be next to you?" She looked away from his stare for a long second, then met his eyes again.
He bit the inside of his cheek for a second, "What?
"It's Monica we're talking about, Chandler. You've known her for so long. What's different now?" She knew she was pushing him, but she wanted the truth. She loved them both, and she knew she didn't want to see either of them with a broken heart.
He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose, "I'm not good at this, you know, the being in love thing." She nodded at him but didn't say anything as she waited for him to continue. He swallowed nervously and cleared his throat, "But, I think you know you love someone when you can't even hate them for breaking your heart. And she did."
Rachel tilted her head, "Oh, sweetie…"
He looked over at Monica, "I don't really blame her for that, now. I did before, but it wasn't her fault. She didn't do anything wrong." He made himself look away from Monica as Jack handed her a cup of coffee and reclaimed his seat between Monica and Judy. "She is in love with him, and she has been for a long time."
Chandler didn't see, but Rachel shook her head. She knew that wasn't true, not anymore. "She shattered my heart into a million pieces when she chose him instead of me." He swallowed and shook his head, "Even after all of that, I still think she is one of those people that makes my life better just by being in it. Even though I'm not the one who gets to hold her at night or the one that kisses her in the morning when she opens her eyes, I still want to be in her life."
"Aw, sweetie," Rachel said, then reached over and pat his leg.
He shut his eyes against the anguish he felt in his chest, "I want her in my life, I really do, but I can't," he stopped and leaned forward, then tangled his hands together in front of him.
"You can't what?" She pushed gently.
Chandler looked over at Monica again, then groaned with frustration, "I'm crazy about her, Rach," he said, then shivered at the honesty, "tell me how I get over her. Is there a way?" He asked, and when his eyes met hers, she was sure she saw what looked like tears forming, "I want her in my life, but the other side of me wants all or nothing, and I can't fucking separate the two." He looked down at the floor, not sure what else to say.
She crossed her arms and stared at him, a large part of her really surprised to hear Chandler Bing say such things. "Yeah, it um," she sighed, "it sounds like you're in love."
Chandler nodded, "Yeah."
"Now, tell me, what are you going to do about it?"
He shook his head, chuckling a little, "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
He turned in his seat to look at her, "Yes, nothing. She loves someone else. What do you expect me to do?"
Rachel lifted a hand to scratch the side of her nose, "Chandler," she said, and he turned his head to look at her. She licked her lips and sighed, wanting to tell him exactly what Monica said during their conversation just a week ago. But she promised Monica she wouldn't, and she didn't want to cause any more confusion for her roommate. "I can't..." she said, then sighed again and looked right into his eyes, hoping to convey to him what she meant, "I think you just need to be patient."
"No," he replied instantly, then shook his head at her, "I am just supposed to sit around and wait while Richard buys her a ring and proposes to her, then marries her and they live happily ever after?" Rachel swallowed and glanced over at Monica, who still wasn't paying attention to them, "No. I'm not going to sit around and be miserable for the rest of my life. I've got to move on."
"Chandler," she said, but he cut her off.
"I'm trying, Rachel," he said, "I went on a date tonight."
Rachel seemed surprised by that, "You did?"
"Yeah," Chandler said, then sighed, "and it was hard, because I feel like I'm not good at it anyway, and now I've got the fact that I can't get Monica off my mind. Until Joey called, I kept thinking, 'this isn't going to work, I don't want to see her again.' But now," he sighed again, "maybe I didn't give her a good enough chance."
"So what are you saying?" She needed to know.
"I think after all of this is over with Ross and I know that he's okay, I'm going to ask her out again. She's nice, and she's pretty, and she likes me."
She grabbed his knee, causing him to look at her, "I'm sure this woman is nice, but I don't think you should ask her out again."
"What?"
"Look at me," Rachel commanded, then looked right into his tired blue eyes, "you need to give her a little while," she said, slower this time so that he heard her.
"Rach..."
"Chandler, stop," she said, shaking her head, "you're not listening to me."
"I just don't understand..."
"Chandler!" Rachel said through her teeth, and he lifted his eyebrows at her in question, "Give her some time." He stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed, his heart beating fast in his chest. "I don't think it'll be very long," she continued, "give her some time," she repeated.
What did Monica tell her? He had so many questions.
He glanced over at the subject again, then back at Rachel, "Why? Did she say something?"
Rachel lifted her eyebrows, squeezed his arm, and stood from her chair, looking down at him, "Wait for her."
Richard put one of Monica's overnight bags on her bed and began opening her dresser drawers to retrieve the items on the list she wrote for him.
He told Monica he would go to her apartment and get her some clothes to change into so that she was more comfortable.
But he had to make a stop first.
He had to call and cancel reservations at the cabin, change out of his tuxedo, and put the ring that was in a velvet box in his pocket safely back in his dresser drawer at his apartment.
He'd already collected the items she needed from the bathroom, and once he got the clothes for her, he could head back to the hospital.
After collecting the two pairs of sweatpants, t-shirts, and a pair of jeans, he opened her sock drawer and picked up two pairs, and confusion set in when he saw the yellow notepad stuffed beneath them.
He furrowed his eyebrows together. His over-the-top-neat-and-clean girlfriend didn't just put notepads in drawers where notepads didn't belong. It should've been in the living room, on the desk, the second drawer on the right.
Why was this one in her sock drawer?
He put the two pairs of socks into the open bag, checked the list to see what else he needed, then folded it and put it back in his pocket.
Returning to the dresser drawer, he pulled the pad out of it and backed up a step to sit down next to the bag on the bed.
He added his reading glasses to his face and pressed his lips together as he read the blue ink in Monica's handwriting.
Dear Chandler,
I haven't been completely honest with you over the last few weeks. I'm sorry that I didn't give you a chance to say what you wanted to say to me after our trip to Colorado. It wasn't fair to you, none of this has been.
I don't like to see you hurting, but the thought of you not being my friend anymore, of not being able to be in my life, hurts me too. I want you in my life.
No, more than that, I need you in my life.
I don't know how to put into words what I feel for you.
I think that honest feelings and bad timing make the worst combination, and that's where we are.
I don't want you to give up on me, because, and I mean this with all of my heart, maybe we are meant to be.
Richard flipped up to the next page to see if there were more written on it, but it was blank.
He ripped the reading glasses from his face, threw the notepad on the floor, and rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb.
His gut clenched and he leaned forward, all his suspicions and doubts coming to the surface all at once.
"Damn it, Monica," he whispered in disbelief.