Chapter 3

A/N: Again, thanks for all the reviews! It's a little overwhelming, actually. I almost feel bad that this isn't going to be more than like six chapters long.

Chandler experienced the same sensation while taking a cab over to what he knew to be Ross' apartment. The driver took totally different turns. Trying to open his mouth to protest, Chandler found himself swallowing his words every time.

They wound up parked in front of a condominium building. Getting out of the cab and paying the driver, Chandler stared at it for a long moment. Why am I here

Shrugging, he went inside, walking up the somewhat familiar stairs to Ross' second floor condo. Hr rang the bell.

"Chandler! What are you doing here? We were just heading over to Ross' mum and dad's."

Hearing that British accent again was enough to make Chandler nearly jump out of his skin. "Emily! I wasn't expecting to see you…"

"Why wouldn't you. I do live here," Emily replied, titling her head in bewilderment.

Scratching behind his ear, Chandler muttered, "Yeah, I guess you do. Um, can I talk to Ross?"

"Sure. You'll have to wait a minute, though. He's in the loo getting ready. Have a seat," Emily answered, moving further into the living room.

Doing so, Chandler kept looking at her in total disbelief as she went into the kitchen. He couldn't comprehend how…she and Ross weren't in London. "No, see, what I meant was that when I talk to Ross last week, he was all gung-ho about seeing your family today. You know, as part of your 'his parents get Christmas, you use your Thanksgiving to go to England" thing."

"Oh, that," Emily replied, in the process of taking out some aluminum trays from the fridge. "I guess he hasn't told you. We were going to go to London, but his sister cancelled too. Something about wanting to work. I suppose she needs the money after divorcing that millionaire."

His sister. Chandler paused, wondering what caused the sudden strange feeling he was getting. Ross talked about his sister all the time, but hell if he could remember her name. "Well, yeah, that's gotta suck. So under reasons for divorce, was there listed 'hot young blonde' and 'a dozen Long Island Iced Teas'?"

Bringing the trays into the living room and setting them on the coffee table, Emily laughed. "No actually, I think she wanted the divorce. Go figure."

"Yeah. Some people are weird," Chandler remarked. "So, you were saying..."

Emily continued, "Right. His sister cancelled, so his parents made him feel so guilty that the parents agreed to swap holidays this year. I swear, the stuff they make him do, trying to control who he sees…"

"Uh huh. Crazy," Chandler agreed, getting another wave of déjà vu.

The two were interrupted as Ross came in from the hallway that led to the bedrooms, dressed in a suit. He held a tie in each of his hands. "Okay which one…hey Chandler…"

"I'm flattered you'd ask, but I don't really give a crap about tie color," Chandler quipped.

Emily put in, "The blue one. If you two will excuse me, I have to finish getting ready. I'll see you later Chandler. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, you too," Chandler replied.

Ross glanced at him. "Someone just wished you a happy Thanksgiving and you didn't grimace. What's up, man? Did you want to talk to me about something?"

"I did…don't remember what it was, but I did," Chandler answered, his mind a little fuzzy. "Ross, refresh my memory. How did you and Emily meet?"

His face showing concern, Ross went with it anyway, "It was about six years ago, remember? She was in Manhattan visiting her father, we got a paper at the same newsstand, got to talking…is this sounding familiar?

"A little. And the, ah, wedding went smoothly, right? You didn't say the wrong name or anything?" Chandler inquired, not positive why he was asking these questions.

"Say the wrong name? How stupid would I have to be to do that?" Ross scoffed. "You should know anyway. You were my best man."

Feeling uncomfortable at the now high level of déjà vu, Chandler responded, "Yeah, right, sorry."

"it's okay. Wait, aren't you supposed to be having twenty in-laws over? What are you doing here?" Ross asked.

Chandler sighed, "I needed a breather. You know much my wife's been getting on my nerves. Today it was all 'do this, clean that'. And she knows how much I can't stand Thanksgiving food."

"You know, you and she have been fighting for a while now," Ross pointed out. "You're not…"

"I'm not sure. I mean, we've been together for almost ten years. To divorce now…kind of seems like the chicken's way out." Chandler paused. "Sorry dude."

Ross shrugged, "Don't worry about it. Carol and I did what we could. But I'm definitely sticking with Emily as long as I can. There's no way I'm getting two divorces. I mean, I see what my sister's going through now, and it only reminds me of how much I don't want to feel that again."

"Of course. You and Emily are a great couple," Chandler assured him.

Turning to go back into the bedroom, Ross replied, "Thanks. I gotta go get this tie on. We have to get going soon. But you're welcome to hide out here for as long as you want."

"Thanks, but I have to be getting back too. Pretending to be in the shower has its limits," Chandler joked, messing up his hair as he rushed out of the condo.

"Sure you don't want any help?" Monica asked. She was still at Phoebe's apartment, looking on as Phoebe made her special chocolate chip cookies to bring over to Mike's parent's house.

Shaking her head, Phoebe answered, "I swore to my grandmother that I would never tell anyone else the recipe."

"But you're letting me watch," Monica argued.

Pausing, Phoebe slapped the counter in aggravation. "Aw, damn! Okay, you can grease that baking sheet if you want."

"I promise I won't tell anyone," Monica replied, laughing. While she did so, she asked, "So, are you nervous about meeting Mike's family tonight?"

After thinking a minute, Phoebe answered, "I'm really not. I thought I would be, but I think I just love him so much that I don't care if they love me or not. I know Mike does, and that's all that matters."

"Aw, Pheebs," Monica sighed, absentmindedly tossing the baking spray from one hand to the other after she finished the sheet. "I never felt that way about Pete. I guess that should've been a clue not to marry him, huh?"

"I've told you a million times. You can't beat yourself up about this," Phoebe ordered, adding the last of the ingredients into the cookie mix.

"I guess so." Grabbing her purse, Monica searched for a ponytail holder so that her hair wouldn't get in the dough while she was helping Phoebe. Her hand brushed against her driver's license, which had somehow fallen out of her wallet.

It still declared her to be Monica E. Becker. Despite the fact that it mocked her every time she looked at it, she hadn't found time to change it yet. "It's funny. The DMV still sees me as Monica E. Becker. Maybe it still should."

"It also thinks you weigh 160 pounds," Phoebe retorted, pointing to the card first than to Monica's recently thin waist.

Monica had to admit that she was right. Until about six months ago, she was overweight. Granted, not as bad as high school, but she just hadn't had the motivation to go on a full-fledge diet.

But with the recent divorce to Pete, she realized she could finally fulfill her dream to be a chef. And losing the weight when she was cooking every day would be near impossible.

"I just don't know what I was thinking," Monica sighed, decisively putting away the license. "Why did I marry him if I didn't love him?"

Putting a comforting arm around Monica, Phoebe answered, "Because you were scared. You were nearing thirty with no long-term romantic prospects, I was finally going to move out, you didn't want to be alone…you can't really blame yourself for not resisting when handsome rich Pete came along."

"Yes I can. I shouldn't have been weak," Monica snapped, then ducked from under her friend's arm and went over to the bowl of cookie dough. "So, want me to start putting this on the cookie sheet?"

Noting the abrupt subject change and all too happy to comply, Phoebe nodded, "Yeah, thanks. I promised I'd make my oatmeal cookies too if you wanna help…"

"I would, but I'm stalling as it is," Monica responded, beginning to work on the cookies.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "Stalling?"

"I left my work Id at Pete's pent house when I went to pick up some stuff a few days ago," Monica answered, her face revealing her displeasure at the idea of seeing her ex again. "If I don't have it today, they'll start taking a penalty fee from my paycheck."

Phoebe gave her a sympathetic look. "Good luck with that."