I sigh and as covertly as possible check my watch. I fight back a groan; Phoebe and Rachel have been picking at me for information about Chandler and me for well over an hour now.

I knew when Rachel suggested have a girl's night she didn't really want to have a girl's night. But there was that little part of me that hoped I was wrong, that maybe the three of us just haven't spent a lot of time together lately.

One of these days, I'll learn to trust my instincts.

It was subtle at first; just casual mentions of relationships, sort of in a roundabout way trying to get information out of me. I'm not dealing in subtlety right now, though. These are my best friends in the world, and part of me wants more than anything to tell them all the wonderful things that have happened to me in the last eight and a half months. But there's this other part of me that's become an expert at keeping this part of my life close and secret, that's almost reluctant to let it all out as if it'll ruin just how magical this whole relationship with Chandler is.

We knew that at some point, some if not all of our friends would want details; that's one of the reasons why we held off on telling anyone about us. I mean, I love my friends, and I love that they care about me, about us, but they can all be a bit much.

And they're all extraordinarily nosy.

I tune in to hear Phoebe laughing hysterically at something Rachel said, something I managed to miss. "Speaking of sardines," she says, gasping for air as she laughs. "Remember that thing you said about hooking up with Chandler in London?"

"There it is," I say, and I have to pause for a moment. That definitely sounded like Chandler—it's no wonder Phoebe picked up on that a couple of months ago. "Yes. Chandler and I hooked up in London." Really, I'm surprised they've both managed to hold off on the interrogation for as long as they have. This must have been killing them.

"So, like, what happened?" Rachel asks, leaning forward on the couch, all pretense of "girl's night" suddenly gone from her posture—she's in full-on busybody mode.

I sigh; how do I start? "It's hard to say."

"Try."

Rachel and I stare at Phoebe; her tone brooks no argument.

"Okay, well, I guess it started at the rehearsal dinner. I mean, I'd already spent the entire trip with my mother making digs at me about not being married, not having a boyfriend, blah blah blah, but I was trying to just be happy for Ross, you know?" I look at Rachel tentatively—I know this part is still a sore subject for her, but she looks completely focused on my story. "Anyway, I was talking with Chandler and this drunk guy thought I was Ross's mother."

Both Rachel and Phoebe wince. "Ouch," Rachel says, taking a sip of her wine.

"Yeah. So, my obvious solution was to get hammered. And Chandler was really, really sweet and tried to comfort me, and when I said I'd never get a boyfriend, he said…" I pause for a moment, what I'm sure is a dreamy smile coming over my face. "He said, 'Who wouldn't want you?'"

"And then you did it?" Phoebe asks, practically draped over the coffee table as she leans in for the story.

"Not quite. I kind of blew off the sentiment and kept drinking. He walked me back to the hotel and we had a few drinks at the bar. I started to get a little too tipsy and he dropped me off at my hotel room, and he probably thought that was that. But...I just wanted to feel good, you know? And I thought sex would help, so…" It's on the tip of my tongue to tell my friends that I wanted to hook up with Joey, but Rachel wouldn't be able to keep something like that in. She'd find some way to tell everyone we know without ever leaving my sight.

"So, your first thought was to go to Chandler?" Rachel asks disbelievingly.

I just shrug. "I was kind of drunk; my judgment wasn't the best at that moment. But Chandler's always been good for cheering me up, so it's not that much of a stretch to go to him." The two of them sort of nod in agreement, so I keep going. "Anyway, he asked how I was doing and told me to get over the self-pity because I was the most beautiful woman in the room that night."

"Awww!" they gush simultaneously and I grin; this is the first time I've been able to tell anybody about this part of my relationship with Chandler.

"Then, he said I was the most beautiful woman in most rooms and I just sort of…threw myself at him. I kissed him, he kissed me back, he asked me how drunk I was, we kissed some more, I noticed that he's a really good kisser…"

"Wasn't it weird, though?" Rachel asks. "When Ross and I first hooked up, it was a little weird, doing all that stuff with him. I kept thinking about the guy I'd spent so much time with for the past year and then the guy who was trying to be romantic and…it was weird."

"It wasn't, though. Not for us. We both noticed that, too. Kissing him felt sort of natural, like it was something we were supposed to do. Then we decided to…get naked, and that wasn't weird, either. It was great. And we just fit together so perfectly, you know? And I don't mean in that way, Pheebs." She throws her hands up in surrender, the comment she'd been about to make obvious. "I mean when he held me and kissed me, it just felt like that was where I belonged, you know?" I twiddle my fingers for a few moments, shifting a little. "But we fit together pretty nicely the other way, too."

"So how was it?" Rachel asks, excitement in her eyes.

I bite my lip to try to contain my smile. "It was amazing."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, my God, yes. I've never felt anything like that in my entire life."

"Geez, Mon, it's just sex," Phoebe says, taking a sip of her wine. "With Chandler."

I just look at her for a moment. "But it wasn't just sex. It was like…finding what had been missing my whole life. I know that sounds weird because I've known him for so long, but…it was right."

"Was it romantic?" Rachel asks dreamily and I laugh a little.

"Unintentionally, yes. It was incredibly romantic. He is incredibly romantic, and sweet, and passionate—"

"Really?" Phoebe asks, her nose curling up a little. "Chandler? Passionate?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, come on, it's Chandler."

I think this is what it feels like when your blood actually boils. "What's your point?"

Phoebe looks at Rachel for help, who just shakes her head. "Okay, it's just that Chandler's never really been like that. He's not…"

"Not what? Not a good person? Not a great friend? Not incredibly sweet and thoughtful to his friends when they need him to be?"

"Well, I guess he can be those things, but, c'mon. It's Chandler."

Without a word, I stand up and go to the kitchen, bracing my hands on the sink. It's nice to know Phoebe has such a high opinion of Chandler.

"Mon, what's wrong?" Rachel asks.

"Nothing. I'm just trying to contain myself with all this fun we're having with you bashing my boyfriend."

"I'm not trying to bash your boyfriend, Monica," Phoebe tells me, following me into the kitchen. "It's just hard to believe that Chandler—"

"Could you stop saying his name as if he were some sort of leper? He is an amazing guy, and you know that! He's been your friend for years; I can't believe you think about him this way."

"Okay, look, I'm sorry. I've just never thought of him as that kind of guy before."

"Well, you don't have to think of him as that kind of guy now. I'm the one who has to think of him that way; that's the only part that matters."

Phoebe throws her hands up defensively, backing away from me a few steps. "Hey; he's the one who's been talking about how bad he is with women for years. That was all him. What else am I supposed to go by?"

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. "Go by me. Listen to me. I have a lot of firsthand experience with this now. He's not that bad with women. Sure, he's probably awkward with them at first, but he wasn't with me. He knows me. If anything, the reason he's had a tough time with women so far is probably because he comes on too strong."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks, coming into the kitchen and refilling her wine glass.

"Think about it. Any time we've seen him in a relationship before, does he or does he not throw all he has into it? Isn't he the most attentive, caring, generous, tactile person in the world to that woman? Even with Janice."

Rachel and Phoebe look at each other for a minute, both shrugging a little. "Well, yeah, I guess that's true," Phoebe concedes.

"From the very first moment we decided to try being an 'us,' he has been the most 'there' guy possible. He was instantly my boyfriend, even if we weren't calling it that yet. He wanted to hold my hand all the time, and he'd send me flowers at work, or call me just to say, 'hi'. He would sneak over here in the middle of the night just to spend a few hours with me. This was all in the first few weeks. That's the sort of thing that freaks most girls out, even if they say they want a relationship. But it worked for us because all I wanted was to spend time with him. I want someone who wants to be around me like that all time. I mean, you both know as well as I do how impossible it is to find someone that can even stand being around me like that all the time. We like being joined at the hip. He misses me when I'm not around and he's not afraid to tell me." Even as pissed off as I am right now, it feels amazing to finally be able to tell someone about how wonderful this man is to me. "Remember—months ago—when you'd just gotten back from Greece, Rache, and Chandler leaned over and kissed me?"

I can actually see understanding dawn on their faces simultaneously. "Oh…" Rachel says, almost looking off to the distance as she remembers that incident, and probably a dozen others. "That's because you two were…"

"Right. We'd only been together for about a week at that point and he was casually kissing me goodbye, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It is the most natural thing in the world. Sleeping in the same bed, waking up next to each other, kissing, sex…all of it has felt completely right, like that's how it's supposed to be."

The two of them look at me in silence for a few moments before slowly walking back into the living room, resuming their seats. I take a few deep breaths and follow a minute later. This is not at all how I pictured this conversation going, but I can't say as I'm surprised.

"This is why we avoided telling you guys about us for long," I say, curling myself into the chair once more.

They both have the nerve to look offended. "What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel asks.

"Between all the questions and then all the judgment you're throwing around…yeah, we didn't want to deal with that. We both knew if we had to deal with it early on, we wouldn't last through it. He may be incredibly sweet and romantic, but he still scares easy. I never know what's going to throw him for a loop and what won't. I mean, when I first told him we were in a relationship, he smiled and kissed me. He was so happy about it. Then he accidentally told me he loved me at Thanksgiving—"

"WHAT?!" they exclaim simultaneously and my eyes grow wide—I forgot that they didn't know about that yet.

"I'll get to that," I promise. "But he said it then and he freaked out. Then he said it a couple of weeks ago and hasn't been able to stop saying it. But that's why it was better to keep it quiet. I mean, look how freaked out you guys got him just a week ago with all that talk about marriage and babies. He's not ready for it. I'm not ready for it. But we knew that would be the first thing all of you would want to know. So, it was horrible to not be able to talk to you guys about this amazing relationship I've been in for most of a year, but I knew the longer we kept it all quiet, the better my chances of keeping Chandler were going to be."

The room is silent for a few minutes, only the ticking of the clock and the sound of the city outside keep the quiet from being oppressive.

"You two are going to get married, though, right?" Rachel asks suddenly and I groan loudly.

"Rachel…"

"No, seriously. That's where you see this headed, right? You guys have been together for almost a year now; you can't tell me you haven't at least thought about it."

I shrug, plucking at the arm of the couch as I avoid their eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. "I don't know."

"Oh, my God, you so have," Phoebe exclaims, smiling at me.

"Maybe once or twice." A day, I add silently. It's really not hard picturing myself getting married to Chandler. I've always been able to picture my wedding, but the guy standing at the other end of the aisle wasn't always so clear. The only other person I could picture was Richard. But now…it's just Chandler. Chandler saying, "I do," Chandler that I'll have kids with, Chandler growing old with me. The picture is so clear, so…right. I don't think that picture will come true tomorrow or anything, but I think he's the one it'll be.

My forever guy.

Rachel smiles, and I can tell just the thought of a wedding is getting her excited. "I can totally see you two living happily ever after."

A huge grin splits my face. "Me, too. But you guys can't mention any of this to Chandler, okay? None of this marriage stuff. It's way too soon, and I can't handle him freaking out again. If we decide to get married, it'll be when we're ready and it's the right thing for us to do. Okay?"

"Okay," Phoebe agrees, and Rachel nods, but I can tell she's formulating more questions.

"Go ahead," I tell her with a sigh.

"Well…can we go back to your London story?"

Somehow, I managed to forget that's what we were talking about to begin with. "Sure. What did you want to know?"

"You said it was amazing. But, like, amazing in what way?"

I really have no idea how to explain this properly, and I don't want to be too graphic. "Think about…the best sex you've ever had. Ever." They both nod, waiting. "Now, picture that with someone who knows you better than anyone else, someone who's spent years hearing you talk about different guys and what women like and dislike. Someone who took the time to study the diagram of the seven erogenous zones and who is more than capable of hitting all of those spots."

"Yeah, I can't," Phoebe says.

"Me neither," Rachel agrees, and I just shrug, not surprised. Neither of them have spent that much time just being friends with someone before starting a relationship. In all fairness, most people don't spend ten years being friends before hooking up. We're definitely an exception to the rule.

"Well, that's what it's like. It's unreal. Part of it was so comfortable, you know? We were already so at ease with each other. There was no nervousness about being naked together. But it was also exciting because I'd never been able to see that side of Chandler before. Having all of his energy focused on me…it was intense. Sex was intense."

"Tell us about it," Phoebe asks, a gleam in her eye, and I mentally roll my eyes. She's always been kind of a voyeur.

"Which time?" I ask, feeling smug.

"…What do you mean, which time?" Rachel asks, lifting an eyebrow at me.

"Well, we had sex more than once that night, so which time did you want to hear about?"

"How many times did you have sex that night?"

A grin spreads over my face. "Seven."

"No way," Phoebe says, flopping to the ground, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh, believe me. We had sex seven times that night."

"Yeah, well, how many times did you orgasm?" she asks, looking pretty smug herself.

"Ten."

Both of their mouths drop as they stare at me. "Nuh-uh," Rachel says in a whisper.

I pause for a moment, double checking the math. "Yeah. Ten."

"How did you even survive the night?" she breathes, and I just shrug, feeling shivers run through my body at the memory of it all.

"There's no way," Phoebe says. "Not possible."

"I don't know, Pheebs," Rachel says, dragging her eyes away from me. "I share a wall with the two of them. It's only been a couple of weeks, but I've heard some stuff. I think Chandler knows what he's doing."

"But...but…ten?"

"Does it make you feel any better to know that we haven't managed to replicate that night?"

"Not really." She looks stunned. "Wow. My sex life seems dull in comparison."

"You know, not that I was trying to pay attention," Rachel says, "but you guys went at it pretty hard that night you first said the 'I love you's'."

I blush a little, even though the memory of that night is pretty spectacular. "Yeah, well…that was a special occasion."

"I'll say. But what about that night you guys thought I wasn't home and you were screaming?"

I can actually feel my face grow red as Phoebe asks, "What? What night? What are you talking about?"

"Remember Monica's secret boyfriend?" Phoebe nods and Rachel just gestures to me; understanding dawns on Phoebe's face. "Chandler was the secret boyfriend. And there was this one night I heard them going at it in her room. I got home early from a date and they didn't know I it, and there was definitely screaming."

"I…I don't know that I was screaming," I protest weakly, even though I remember that night vividly; there was screaming.

"It sounded like someone was killing you," Rachel tells me, deadpan, and I smirk a little; that's not the first time we've heard that about ourselves.

"Okay, but, that was a special night. It was just about our four month anniversary, and it was our first time without a condom—"

Rachel sputters, gaping at me. "You've been having unprotected sex?"

"Well, no. I went on the pill so we wouldn't have to worry about condoms anymore. That was just the first night we got to go bareback. It was pretty intense. Plus, I'd…" I pause, sighing. "I'd just realized a few days before that I was in love with him and I was still kind of processing that."

Rachel looks confused for a moment. "Just realized you were in love with him? But, Mon, that was months ago."

"Yeah, I know."

"You've been in love with him for that long and you didn't say anything?"

I feel tears fill the corners of my eyes and I bite the inside of my cheek to try to keep myself in check. "I didn't want to risk losing him, and if I told him that early on that I loved him, he would have gotten scared. It's like I kept telling myself; I could live without telling him how I felt, but I couldn't live without him. I was happy to keep it to myself for a while if it meant that I'd still have him today. Look; I know it's crazy to think about, but this guy is everything to me. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life. I get happy just thinking about him; he makes my heart race."

"I can't believe you kept that from him for so long," Rachel whispers, tears shining in her eyes, too.

"I can't believe you kept all of this from us for so long," Phoebe exclaims. "How'd you it?"

"It wasn't easy, and we nearly slipped up on more than one occasion. But it helps that we've always been pretty tactile with each other—"

"Oh, my God! That's it!" Rachel exclaims, making me jump.

"What's it?"

"Well, I mean, now you guys are sitting around holding hands, arms wrapped around each other, sitting on his lap, and the only thing odd about it is that I don't think the two of you doing have been doing a whole lot of that lately."

"Oh, that's true!" Phoebe exclaims. "You two have always been that way. You're always super affectionate. That's why it doesn't seem weird to see you guys being a couple. Other than all the kissing; I still haven't gotten used to seeing that. But that whole closeness-thing? You've been doing that forever."

All I can do is nod because it's true. Chandler and I have pretty much always been close. Even Richard asked me about it years ago, though at the time I didn't think much about it; it was just the way we've always been. But, we've used that to our advantage more than once over the last eight and a half months.

"Anyway," Phoebe says suddenly. "I want to hear more about how Chandler is in bed."

Rachel looks at me with sudden interest. "Is he really the best sex you've ever had."

"Oh, he really is. Really, really is. Let me tell; I've been with him for almost nine months, and I've never faked it."

I swear they both look like they're going to hit me. "Okay, you're lying," Phoebe says.

"You don't have to believe me," I tell her, taking a triumphant sip of my forgotten wine. "He is very eager to please, and he has never once been only concerned with himself. Believe me when I say that I have no cause for complaint. And…" I lean forward conspiratorially. "His mouth is magic," I say softly.

Phoebe's nostrils flare the tiniest bit, Rachel's cheeks turn a little pink, and I lean smugly back in my chair.

They're still searching for words when there's a tap at the door, followed immediately by Chandler's head poking in. I feel myself sit up a little straighter, my smile growing wider, my heartbeat picking up a bit. "Sorry to interrupt."

"That's okay," I tell him. He grins lopsidedly at Phoebe and Rachel as he makes his way over to me. He places his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning over me and kissing me gently.

"I just wanted to say good night," he tells me softly.

"You're going to bed? Without me?"

He looks a little surprised. "I thought you were gonna hang out here. You know, girls' night and all that."

I peek under his arm at Phoebe and Rachel; I know I've been neglecting them a little lately, but I'm still in that phase where I want to be around Chandler all the time, and now that I can be open about it, it's hard to not take advantage of every single second.

Phoebe waves at me, feigning disgust. "Go."

I grin wildly. "Thank you." I give Chandler a quick kiss. "I'm coming with you."

His smile matches my own. "Good." He grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet, and our arms immediately go around each other. "Thank you," he says to Phoebe and Rachel, though he keeps his eyes on me. "I sleep better with her next to me."

"Awwww." It sounds like it's in stereo coming from the both of them. He smiles down at them, and his eyes grow wide as he jumps back a little.

"What?"

I turn my attention to my friends, trying to give them a death glare when I see the way they're looking at my boyfriend. "Nothing," I say pointedly, but they just grin at me and I push Chandler through the door.

"What was that?" he asks as we get into the hallway, turning around so he can hold me for a minute away from prying eyes.

"Believe me," I say, standing on tiptoe. "You don't want to know."

I kiss him, and all else is forgotten.