"He'll be home Wednesday night," Rachel said.
Monica closed her eyes. She was gripping the phone receiver so hard her knuckles had turned white. She cleared her throat.
"I…I can't…I just can't believe it, Rach," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice even.
Rachel sighed at the other end of the line.
"I know, I can't either," she said. "I mean I know the breakup with Kathy was hard on him, but he seemed to be handling it pretty well, especially after you guys talked. I just…I don't get it…"
Monica was silent on the other end. What Rachel told her hadn't surprised her, but it still made her heart ache. Of course he flew out this morning to interview for the job in California.
After all, as he had made so clear Saturday night, what was keeping him here?
She'd left him, alone and asleep, because all of a sudden she remembered she was engaged and really shouldn't have been there - naked in bed with her best friend.
Oh, but how she'd wanted to stay and wake up in his arms. Instead she'd come home and cried herself to sleep, as thoughts and feelings ricocheted from one end of her mind to the other.
"Um…" Rachel started, after Monica had paused for a long time. "Dinner for the six of us is at Maya Fiesta on Saturday at 7, right?"
Monica cleared her throat again.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, 7."
"OK," Rachel said, then asked tentatively, "is…ah…Richard coming home tomorrow?"
"Um, yeah, his plane gets in around 4," Monica replied. She'd planned to make his favorite portabella mushroom dish tomorrow in an attempt to assuage some of the guilt she felt.
"OK," Rachel said. "I'll see you tomorrow. I can't believe the wedding is in less than two weeks…"
"Tomorrow?"
"We're picking up your dress, tomorrow at 2 o'clock, remember?" Rachel said.
"Oh, of course," she said. "Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Mon?" Rachel asked after a brief pause. "Are you OK?"
She took a deep breath.
"I'm fine," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rach. Bye."
"Bye," Rachel replied then hung up the phone, convinced that Monica was anything but fine.
###
Tuesday evening Monica and Richard sat at their kitchen table finishing the dinner she'd prepared for him. She welcomed him home with a smile, a hug and a determination to focus on him and not think of Chandler and the night they spent together.
Because she'd been replaying the night they spent together over and over again in her mind so much she could scarcely think of anything else. And now she knew from Rachel that he had indeed gone to California and was 3,000 miles away from her…
"That was wonderful!" Richard said, interrupting thoughts she'd told herself she wasn't going to have. "Thank you, honey."
Monica gave him a small smile, "you're welcome."
As she stood to take their plates to the sink, he gently grabbed her arm.
"Leave them," he said, suggestively.
She just looked at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded. She honestly hadn't expected him to suggest they have sex tonight.
It had never occurred to her, and the thought of being with him after being with Chandler actually made her stomach turn.
And in that moment she felt like the worst woman in the world.
"You know I can't do that," she said with a nervous laugh as she glanced at the dishes.
"Sure you can," he said as he smiled, stood and moved closer to her.
She took a step back.
"No, I can't," she said, firmly. Seeing the look on his face, hers softened a little as an idea came to her. She walked to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Maybe…maybe we can wait until after the wedding to, um, you know, make it…um, special."
He stepped back.
"After the wedding?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes," she said. "Is that OK?"
He looked at her face and knew it was a question that only had one answer.
"Yes, I guess," he said, stepping back. "Yes, of course."
She smiled at him.
"Thank you," she said as lightly as she could. She walked back to the kitchen table to gather the dishes.
He watched her as she set the dishes on the counter and turned on the water at the sink, pulling on her dish gloves. Then he walked into the living room to retrieve the pile of mail on the end table, and turned to her again.
"Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" he asked, as he glanced through the mail.
She froze and looked at him, trying to hide the panic in her face.
"No," she said quickly. "No…well…"
When she didn't say anything more he asked, "did Chandler hear anything about the job?"
And tears stung her eyes as suddenly as lightning flashes out of the sky. She quickly turned back to the sink.
"Yeah," she said, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice. "It's in Los Angeles."
"What?!" Richard said, turning his full attention to her.
"Yeah," she said again, as she began to vigorously scrub the baking dish that hadn't soaked nearly long enough in the hot, soapy water it had been in. "It was a surprise to all of us. He's out there interviewing for it right now."
"Really?" Richard said, as a small smile she didn't see came over his face. "Wow, that's great. And he's a strong candidate, huh?"
"Yep," she replied, still scrubbing.
"Well, good for him," he said, enthusiastically. "That is news."
She didn't respond.
He put the mail back down on the end table and picked up his suitcase.
"I'm going to go unpack," he said.
She nodded, her back still to him. "'K..."
As soon Monica heard the bedroom door close she dropped the dish into the sink, gripped both her gloved hands at its edge, then closed her eyes and dropped her head, silently letting her tears fall into the bubbles below.
###
"Can't beat the view, huh?"
Chandler looked out over the Pacific Ocean and nodded, "It's pretty spectacular."
After spending a day and a half in interviews with communications managers in their LA offices, Tom McFarland had insisted he take Chandler to dinner on his last night in California.
Chandler guessed Tom be in his late 50s, he had grey hair, a large gut and a big smile. He was a nice guy and Chandler was sure he would be a good boss. He'd immediately taken Chandler under his wing when he met him at the airport.
They'd left the building at 2:30 p.m. and headed for the coast. After what felt like hours in traffic - "Eh, you get used to it," Tom had shrugged - they'd finally reached their destination.
Tom glanced over at the young man he'd grown to really like over the last couple days. He was pleasant, smart and quick witted, and Tom felt like he would fit in with his department just fine.
He just wanted to know exactly why Chandler wanted to move to LA. Because despite his humor and affability, Tom detected that he had something, or someone, on his mind. He decided to ease into asking him about it.
"So…do you like sports?" Tom asked.
Chandler nodded.
"Yeah, I just, um, saw the Knicks in the playoffs over the weekend," he said, wincing slightly as he remembered the rest of that night. "Ah…I like the NBA and the NHL. I'm a big Rangers fan."
"Me, too," Tom said, nodding. "Hockey fan, I mean. If you move out here and work for me you'll have to become an LA Kings fan, though."
Chandler smirked. "I can have a team on each coast."
"Yeah," Tom chuckled, then asked. "So…tell me, aside from a superior NHL team, why do you want to leave New York for LA?"
Chandler sat up in his chair, running his hand over his loose necktie. He'd already answered this in the interviews. He wasn't sure why Tom was asking him again.
"Ah, well, like I said earlier today I really need a change from my current job, and I like to write so Doug…"
"No, Chandler," Tom interrupted, folding his hands and leaning forward on the table. "Why do YOU want to LEAVE New York?"
Chandler looked at him and then quickly looked out at the waves hitting the wooden pillars holding up the pier they were on. He sighed, leaning back again in his chair.
"Just got out of a serious relationship, am I right?" Tom asked quietly.
Chandler just nodded.
"And now you're ready to leave her behind?"
He swallowed hard.
"Something like that," he mumbled.
Tom hesitated for a moment, then asked, "she with someone else?"
Chandler cleared his throat, shifting his weight in his chair.
"Yeah…"
Tom downed the rest of his drink as the waiter brought them the check. The sun was setting over the water and he knew Chandler had a long day of flying ahead of him tomorrow.
"Want another one?" he asked.
Chandler shook his head "no."
Tom handed the waiter his credit card and the men sat in silence for a few moments watching the sun go down. He studied Chandler. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone look as sad as the young man who sat across from him.
"You love her?" he finally asked.
Chandler thought a long time before he answered, so long Tom didn't think he was going to, then…
"Very much," he said in barely a whisper. "I love her very much."
Tom frowned and sympathetically shook his head. "What's her name?"
Just then the lights flickered on, illuminating all the signs around the place where they sat overlooking the ocean.
Chandler gave Tom a sad, lopsided grin as he answered…
"Monica."
Tom looked at him in disbelief, then glanced at the now-bright signs that all read "Santa Monica Pier."
"Oh, I should not have brought you here," he said, chuckling a little. "What are the odds it would be 'Monica?'"
"Yeah," Chandler said quietly, looking back out over the water once again. "What are the odds it would be Monica…"
NOTE: This chapter came to me suddenly several days ago as I searched for a way to bridge the last chapter to the next - and I love, love writing dialogue, which this mostly is. Oh, and I'm sorry if I took any readers "out of the story," with the L.A. Kings reference. (Between MP's love for the Kings and Chandler's love for the Rangers - and the fact that they are playing for Lord Stanley's Cup as I write this - I seriously couldn't resist!) Thanks once again for your reviews. I've been swamped but promise that I will PM those I can as soon as I'm able. I feel very blessed to have Mondler fans so engaged in this story! :)