A/N Thank you as ever for reading!
I had hoped to get all of the proposal stuff out in very quick succession, but life got in the way this week I'm afraid: Sorry to leave this hanging!
Anyway, here's The Proposal Part 2
As the rest of the world slept off their New Year's Eve celebrations Monica found herself refreshed and wide awake by 7.00am following her unexpectedly early night.
She suspected that it was hunger that had prompted her wakefulness, the canapés she had hastily consumed at Rachel's work party had proven far too scant a meal to sustain her throughout the night, and her stomach was growling in angry complaint.
Her hazy, early morning daydreams were full of the pillow-soft Italian panettone that had been gifted to her and Chandler by Joey's parents at Christmas, warm with buttery vanilla and studded with sweet plump raisins and candied peel. Her mouth was watering as she began to galvanize herself into departing the snug warmth of her bed, after deciding that the time was right for her to make a substantial dent in it.
But first she turned her head to observe Chandler; or more accurately, the tiniest available portion of him.
The corners of her mouth immediately curled into a loving smile as she drank him in: He was submerged so deeply in blankets he was almost entirely obscured from the world, only his tousled chestnut hair, his nose, and his peacefully closed eyelids were visible. The steady rise and fall of his rib cage and the gentle rumble of his breath indicated that he was still in deep slumber, so Monica was reluctant to disturb him, but he looked so disarmingly boyish, tucked up in the protective nest he had created for himself, his long lashes grazing his cheeks, she could not resist tracing a feather-light finger of fondness across the contour of his brow and down the arrow-straight bridge of his nose before attempting to extract herself quietly from the bed in search of sustenance.
However, moving oneself in a dainty manner is no mean feat at 8 months pregnant, and despite Monica's best efforts, Chandler began to stir as her feet creaked softly across the bedroom floor.
"Hey! Where are you going?" he complained in a sleep-addled slur as he registered her absence through fluttering eyelids, and dragged himself up into a seated position with a lethargic groan.
Monica returned to perch next to him, all thoughts of panettone banished from her mind as she pressed her lips gently against his adorably crumpled forehead.
"Happy New Year again, you" she greeted in a sweet whisper, before screwing up her face in horror "Oh my God, are you still in your clothes from last night?"
She tugged at the blanket that had fallen from his torso to his lap as he sat up, drawing attention to the fact that he had neglected to change out of his New Years Eve attire before unexpectedly falling asleep next to her.
"I'll bet you didn't even brush your teeth, did you! You're so gross!" She grinned teasingly as she scolded him for his sloppiness, kissing him again and giving his unruly hair a brisk ruffle of affectionate admonishment.
"Why were you all dressed up anyway?" she suddenly queried, her eyes narrowing as she appraised his outfit, which although sleep-disheveled, seemed excessively smart for a man who had supposedly spent the main portion of New Years Eve lying alone in a darkened room recovering from a headache.
Chandler looked pensive for a moment as he tugged uncomfortably at the unbuttoned collar of his tailored shirt before telling her "Well... I put this on when I still thought we were going for dinner. I just never got around to changing out of it".
Monica accepted this response without question, but there was something about his self-satisfied smile, loaded with something akin almost to relief, that rendered his perfectly plausible explanation jarring, and Chandler tensed as he felt her perceptive eyes linger upon him for a second too long.
"I do feel a little gross" he conceded, rousing his limbs with a stretch as he rose from the bed, keen to escape Monica's scrutiny.
He planted a kiss on top of her head, "I think I'll hit the shower."
He ran a frustrated palm across his face as he made for the bathroom, feeling at a complete loss as to how he was going to rally from last night's failed proposal, and realizing that keeping last night's ill-fated plan from Monica would inevitably involve another exhausting day of deception.
He had fires to put out everywhere: Lights and blankets to collect from the roof, a ring to re-hide, and most notably, an excitable blonde to intercept.
If Phoebe got to Monica before he got to Phoebe, the game would be well and truly up, and any chance of a surprise proposal would be gone forever.
And it might not be only Phoebe who would be eagerly anticipating an engagement announcement: He could not rule out the possibility that the alcohol-fueled New Year's celebrations might have rendered his co-conspirator loose-lipped, which would add a whole new level of jeopardy.
He let out a weary sigh, hoping desperately that Phoebe had managed to remain suitably silent and that their secret remained intact.
The idea of a repeat attempt at proposing felt incontrovertibly daunting and Chandler was wondering how long he should delay, unsure as to how quickly he could pull together an alternative plan that would feel sufficiently romantic.
In fact, he was even beginning to wonder if it had been foolhardy for him to ever have considered such a grand gesture so late into Monica's pregnancy, and whether or not he should think about holding off for an extended period of time, perhaps waiting until after their baby had arrived and they had found their feet as parents.
Their due date might officially still be a month away, but it was not inconceivable that the baby could make an early appearance, and life suddenly felt disconcertingly unpredictable in a way that was hardly conducive to planning any further significant events.
But that beautiful ring he had so mindfully selected for Monica was burning a hole in Chandler's pocket. More than anything else, he was desperate for her to feel the searing extent of his love, and needed her to have wholehearted confidence in his desire to commit to her, not only as the mother of his child, but as his entire world.
He knew that somehow, he had to make this happen.
"Is this salmon?"
Chandler had just emerged fresh and reinvigorated from his shower when Monica's voice caused him to stop abruptly in his tracks and wince.
The food. He had completely forgotten about the food.
He peered cautiously into the kitchen and grimaced as he was greeted by the sight of his girlfriend rifling through the refrigerator, her brow furrowed with interest as she investigated the various foil trays that contained the uneaten feast that he had commissioned for their ultimately doomed evening of romance.
"Oh... yeah. It's the takeout I ordered last night. After I cancelled our dinner reservation" he told her lightly.
Monica eyed him with unveiled skepticism "Where on earth did you get takeout poached salmon and Basque cheesecake from?"
"Well.. I.. don't remember the name of the place. I just found it in the Yellow Pages" he dismissed evenly, giving his hair a vigorous rub with a towel.
She threw him an incredulous stare before removing another lid and peering curiously inside.
"Chandler, this food looks really good. I don't get how you just came across something like this? What kind of restaurant is preparing last minute confit-duck-to-go on New Year's Eve? It's one of the busiest nights of the year for any restaurant! This makes no sense!"
Chandler gaped back at her vacantly, his mind completely devoid of suitable responses.
"Yeah I guess it is a little weird" he eventually mumbled unhelpfully, before checking "I kept the food in the fridge, so it should be OK for us to eat later, right?"
"Yeah..." she confirmed after a long pause, her eyes never leaving his face.
He met her probing gaze with concerted nonchalance before meandering as casually as he was able towards the bedroom.
Monica's eyes followed him thoughtfully across the room as her mind leapt back to the beautifully decorated abandoned dinner table she had arrived home to last night.
Coupled with this astonishingly fancy meal, the level of preparation and care that appeared to have gone into their New Year's Eve plans suddenly seemed a million miles away from the relaxed and unfussy night of Chinese food in front of the TV that the two of them had previously discussed.
Despite Chandler's insouciance, it was becoming clear to Monica that more thought had gone into last night than he was letting on.
As he walked away, she felt a sudden wrench of guilt and sadness that they had not had the opportunity to sit together at that carefully laid table, and share the delectable looking meal he had incongruously sourced.
"Hey..."
Chandler turned in surprise as he felt her gentle fingers capture his waist, halting his departure from the room.
"Thank you for trying to make last night special" she whispered huskily.
Her eyes bore into his with such intensity that he could feel his ability to keep anything from her beginning to wilt, but there was a wistful softness in her gaze that told him that she would ask no further questions.
"I'm so sorry for ruining it", she continued quietly, bringing her hands to cradle his head, softly encouraging his lips towards her own.
He relaxed blissfully into her kiss, his palms gliding down the smooth satin of her robe to firmly cup her buttocks in an attempt to draw her closer, but his move was severely hampered by Monica's ample bump. She let out a grunt of discomfort as his pelvis collided with her abdomen, before giggling at their physical awkwardness.
"You're gonna have to turn around" Chandler instructed with a chuckle, "I can't get you close enough anymore."
She immediately obliged, angling her body so that his arms might envelop her from behind.
"I love you so much you know," she told him softly, leaning comfortably into his shoulder "And I really am sorry I took so long to come home."
"Meh.. It was just one of those things," he assured her stoically.
"And anyway, you were right what you said last night," he whispered as his lips grazed her neck and he brought his hand to caress her belly "We have all the time in the world."
"Yeah" she agreed quietly, but her voice remained laced with thoughtful regret.
An unexpected benefit of an accidental early night on New Year's Eve was that the couple practically had the city to themselves when they decided to take a New Year's Day stroll.
It was the perfect morning to be out early in the fresh winter air; the trees were alive with amber hues, any leaves that remained on their sparse branches illuminated gold in the morning light; the ground satisfyingly crisp underfoot thanks to a crystal sheen of frost, and the bite of the air was pleasantly allayed by the warm rays of the sun.
But despite these ideal conditions,the park remained almost surreally deserted. Besides a handful of particularly conscientious joggers, and a few tired looking parents attempting to keep up with their irrepressibly energetic children, Monica and Chandler barely encountered a soul as they ambled contentedly, hand-in-hand, through the avenues of pin oaks, remarking with excitement and trepidation that this time next year they would most likely join the ranks of those bleary-eyed mom and dads, desperately swigging cups of tepid coffee, as they attempted to entertain an almost one year old on the colorfully painted baby swings.
After the disappointment of last night, this spontaneous morning of quiet togetherness felt like a rare gift; a snatched moment of pure perfection. It was an infrequent event for the two of them to be able to spend so many hours together without interruption, and they were both high-spirited and dreamy-eyed by the time they returned home.
But predictably, this little bubble of blissful shared solitude was punctured far too soon.
The answering machine blinked impatiently at them as soon as they opened the door, bearing messages from both Judy and Nora, who were equally keen to impart New Year's greetings to their respective offspring.
Monica departed the living room, phone receiver in hand, agreeing to be the first to return the parental call, and within seconds Joey came bounding into their apartment with felicitations of his own.
Chandler greeted his best friend warmly, but cast an alarmed glance over his shoulder when he suddenly noticed that Joey was carrying the wicker hamper of blankets that had been awaiting collection from the abandoned rooftop hideaway.
Fortunately, Monica remained ensconced in her bedroom, and Chandler could hear the soft chatter of her voice as she conversed on the phone with her mother.
"Dude, Treeger asked me to give this to you, and he said you need to get the rest of your stuff off the roof today. He sounded a little pissed." Joey warned as he thrust the hamper towards his former roommate.
"OK, thanks" Chandler hurriedly relieved him of the blankets and swiftly stashed them in the newly decorated nursery, closing the door in order to keep them away from Monica's keen eyes.
"He also said you'll probably want to get your rug cleaned, because he found some drunk couple "cavorting" on it." Joey relayed Mr Treeger's message with raised eyebrows.
Chandler wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Lovely" he remarked with a mirthless chuckle.
Given the disastrous failure of every one of last night's attempts at romantic perfection, he found himself entirely unsurprised at this latest unsavory revelation, and he supposed he should just feel glad that somebody had apparently enjoyed his efforts.
"Why did you leave rugs and blankets up on the roof anyway?" Joey asked inquisitively
"Oh, er, Ross and I were up there a few nights ago... we were trying to spot the International Space Station". Chandler smiled smugly, impressed with the speed of his own hastily contrived response.
"With blankets?" Joey confirmed, regarding him strangely.
"Yeah. It was December." Chandler stammered, feeling a little less self-satisfied as he began to picture the scene he had just created in Joey's head "We were cold..."
"And candles?" pressed Joey, as he recalled the contents of the hamper.
"It was dark.." Chandler whispered hoarsely, his shoulders beginning to hunch as he cringed.
Joey raised his eyebrows and looked bemused "Huh. I assumed you'd been up there with Monica..."
Chandler considered this briefly, before acknowledging with a slow nod "That would have sounded a lot less weird."
Despite the fresh wave of peril her presence presented, Chandler was overwhelmingly relieved when Monica returned to the room with a cheerful smile and affectionate New Year's hug for Joey, hoping that she would prove a welcome distraction from the suddenly awkward conversation.
"I can't stay, I need to call my sister" Joey told Monica as he returned her embrace ,"I just stopped by to tell you guys that we're all meeting at the coffee house at around 4.00. Well, and I also had to drop off Chandler and Ross's spaceship stuff."
"Chandler and Ross's what?" Monica queried with a confounded smirk.
Chandler found himself able only to stare mutely back at the pair, completely discombobulated and listening in horror at his friend's attempt at clarification "You know, when they were looking at the spaceship? On the roof?"
Monica's wide eyes met Chandler's with amused incredulity as she questioned sarcastically "Joey... did you see a spaceship on the roof? Did you get taken aboard maybe?"
Joey shook his head witheringly, "No, I'm talking about the rug and the blankets -"
"Ha! Yeah, OK Joe!" Chandler interrupted forcefully, exchanging a look of what he hoped would pass as realistic bafflement with Monica, and urging Joey brusquely towards the door "We'll see you later! 4 o'clock in the coffee house, yeah?"
"What the hell was that all about?" Monica giggled in astonishment as Chandler closed the door briskly behind their friend.
Chandler shook his head and attempted to match her bewilderment "I dunno, it sounded like he had been talking to Ross about the International Space Station? But who knows what goes on in Joey's head really?"
Monica chuckled and shrugged as she handed him the telephone.
"Your turn. You need to call your mom," she instructed. "Also, we're out of milk, so I'll go grab some. I'll meet you in the coffee house with the others in a half hour?"
Chandler slid his arms affectionately around her shoulders as he teased, "Just so I'm clear...Is that a regular half hour? Or a "might stop off at some random guy's party" half hour?"
"Oh, shhhh!" Monica narrowed her eyes and attacked his ribs with a playful tickle before planting a firm goodbye kiss upon his lips.
She buttoned her coat as she descended the stairs and prepared to exit the building, but as she approached the main doorway she found her path blocked by the rotund frame of their superintendent, Mr Treeger.
The man was hunched double, grunting uncomfortably as he gathered up the plethora of glossy flyers for club nights, and garishly designed menus for various local pizza joints and Chinese restaurants that constantly accumulated to form a mountainous heap in the lobby.
Monica stood patiently to the side as Treeger cursed quietly to himself, stuffing leaflet after leaflet into the black waste bag he had bunched in his left hand. He turned to face her grumpily when he sensed her presence.
"Happy New Year, Mr Treeger!" she offered him an affable grin that was not returned.
"Has that boyfriend of yours cleared all of his crap off the roof yet? Tribbiani has the box of blankets and candles, but the rest of it needs to go too." he barked cheerlessly.
Monica masked her confusion adequately as she considered his words, but her interest had certainly been piqued.
"I'm not sure" she responded coolly, "Would you like me to head up there and collect whatever's left?"
"I don't think someone in your condition should be roaming around the roof hauling rugs and lights about" Treeger scoffed, his eyes flitting towards the roundness of her belly, "But tell your boyfriend it all needs to be moved."
Monica gave a slow and considerate nod as she assured "Don't worry, I'll tell him"
She was actually glad that Treeger's mood was so uncompromisingly sour because it made it unnecessary for her to cultivate a cheery goodbye.
And Monica would have struggled to have formed even the stiffest of smiles right now: Her stomach was suddenly gripped by a bitter twist of anxious guilt that she finally felt on the precipice of understanding; her mind whirring uneasily as it pieced together the assortment of strange behaviors and events that had vaguely unsettled or bothered her these past couple of days.
She and Treeger eyed each other without endearment as she moved past him to emerge into the cold air that already carried the bite of the approaching early dusk of winter.
Her eyes were glazed, so deep in thought that it took a moment for her to register that Phoebe was bouncing down the street towards her, her blonde waves flowing wildly in her wake and her smile positively effervescent.
"Let me see! Let me see!" Phoebe squeaked as she neared, her gloved hands extended towards Monica, ready to grasp her friend's fingers in her own.
But when Phoebe detected the frown that bothered Monica's forehead and revealed her complete lack of newly-engaged glee, she hesitated, her mouth dropping open slightly as she searched her friend's face, wondering just how badly Chandler's proposal could possibly have gone.
"See what?" Monica asked her solemnly, looking down at their lightly linked hands and then back to Phoebe's slightly startled face.
Phoebe's pause was brief but telling, and Monica was completely unfooled by the response that on another occasion she might well have dismissed as classic Phoebe quirkiness.
"Let me see... the lady who is having a baby this year! I can't believe how close it is now! It's just so exciting!" Phoebe attempted with the sunniest of grins.
But the beam faded slowly from her face and she swallowed hard as Monica failed to return a smile, or even offer any response at all.
Her eyes were now fixed solidly upon Phoebe's hands as they held her own, and she shook her head sorrowfully as a feeling of mortified realization began to creep through her rib-cage, painfully constricting her heart.
The decorated roof; the gourmet meal; the fancy shirt; the covert whispers she had espied between Chandler and Phoebe.
Phoebe: The woman who had just absurdly asked to see her hand.
Except it was not absurd. Not anymore. When she slotted everything together, it all made devastating sense.
Monica felt the oxygen pour from her lungs leaving only a hideous throb of hurt in her chest as she pictured Chandler eagerly anticipating her arrival in that carefully decorated apartment last night, and she recoiled in horror when she imagined the sadness he must have felt when her failure to arrive caused the eventual abandonment of his considerate plans.
She had felt awful enough that her lateness had given him cause for worry, but the idea that she had unwittingly destroyed something so thoughtful, so loving, so magical, made her physically ache for him.
And yet he had spent the entire day sheltering her from it all. She could barely bring herself to believe it.
This was not the first time she had felt woefully undeserving of this tender-hearted, selfless, wonderful specimen of a man; and she very nearly began to weep, right there on the street.
Phoebe dropped Monica's fingers like hot coals as she sensed her mounting distress, and she knew that the woman was on the cusp of demanding answers.
"Phoebe..." Monica began, her tone dark and warning, and her voice quivering with emotion "You have to tell me what's been going on. I know that you know something."
Phoebe shook her head and gave a confused splutter, ready to dismiss Monica's suspicions, but when she noticed the tears that suddenly welled in her friend's fraught blue eyes, she found herself unable to speak and looked away from her uncomfortably.
"Phoebe please!" Monica implored, her voice scarcely more than a whisper "I feel like I've accidentally ruined something really special and really important."
Her watery eyes transfixed Phoebe with a penetrating stare, her chin beginning to wobble as she confirmed "I have, haven't I? I've ruined it."
The guilt that radiated from her friend's face provided the testimony Monica required.
"Please start talking, Phoebe, I need to know exactly what happened, so I can try to put this right!" Monica pleaded with the gravest of urgency.
Phoebe felt like she was teetering on a knife edge:
She had made a promise to Chandler and was reluctant to betray his confidence, but it was clear that their supposedly foolproof plan had failed to recover from Monica and Rachel's impromptu disappearance last night, and she could only imagine that he must be bitterly disappointed.
Added to which, Monica's distress was palpable, she appeared frighteningly close to tears; and suddenly yesterday's little white lies felt less worthwhile than they had before.
Phoebe exhaled a deep lungful of air as her analytical eyes locked with Monica's sternly purposeful gaze, feeling entirely unsure of what she ought to do.
The muscles in Chandler's back twitched with tension as he attempted to feign interest in Joey's lengthy and tedious assessment of the Knicks' upcoming schedule. His mind was nervously occupied by his need to speak with Phoebe before she unwittingly gave the game away to Monica, and as his eyes darted continually towards the door; anxiously awaiting the arrival of either woman; Joey's long-winded predictions for how each upcoming basketball fixture would play out faded to nothing more than a droning hum in his ear.
He was not sure whether to be relieved or concerned that neither woman had turned up yet, as it meant that whilst he would definitely be on hand to prevent Phoebe from saying anything incriminating, it was now highly unlikely that he would have the opportunity to explain the situation to her calmly and privately.
Ross and Rachel had arrived in the coffee house not long after him and Joey, and they were lounging comfortably on the sofa, looking just about as invested in Joey's ramblings as he was.
After exchanging New Year greetings with the pair Chandler had dashed back to his door-facing chair, and had barely spoken a word since, fixated as he was upon establishing meaningful eye contact with Phoebe as soon as she arrived.
"Where's Mon?" Rachel queried.
Chandler frowned with mild concern as he glanced down at his watch, acknowledging that he would have expected Monica to have arrived already.
"I don't know. She went out to get milk but I thought she'd be here by now..."
"You've lost her again?" Ross quipped with a wry smirk "Sounds like you should get her fitted with some kind of tracking device."
"Well at least we know she's not with Rachel this time, so she's probably not partying way across town." Chandler remarked sarcastically.
He was finding it a little hard not to place a significant portion of blame for the ruined proposal squarely at Rachel's feet.
The woman possessed an undeniable natural charm, and exuded the easy confidence of a person who had spent their entire life enjoying universal love and admiration. Her compelling charisma made it all too easy for Rachel to exert influence and sway the behavior of those in her orbit: So easy in fact, that she did not even realize she was doing it.
Despite having blossomed into a woman of equal charm and beauty, Chandler privately felt that Monica's youth spent in her best friend's shadow, grateful to be allowed to bask in her reflected glow, had rendered her particularly susceptible to indulging Rachel's whims and fancies, and he strongly suspected that was the primary reason for the duo's brief but catastrophic disappearance last night.
However, he found it hard to be mad with somebody he knew to be both kindhearted and well-intentioned, and a twinkle of amusement tempered his rebuke.
"Ha ha" Rachel responded with a sarcastic scowl, but she appeared genuinely apologetic as she told him, "Look, I'm sorry that we worried you."
But all thoughts of Rachel evaporated from Chandler's mind as he noticed Phoebe pushing her way through the door, and he leapt immediately to his feet.
"Hey! Happy New Year Pheebs!" he greeted her with an enthusiasm that he immediately knew sounded excessive.
He approached her and hissed through gritted teeth "I didn't get a chance to ask her."
Phoebe nodded her understanding before telling him loudly enough for everyone to hear "I just saw Monica."
Chandler's eyes widened in alarm.
"Everything's OK" Phoebe told him pointedly, her eyes offering him some assurance that she had not exposed their web of secrecy "But she has a really bad headache so she was on her way home. She looked pretty awful actually. She said she was sorry not to see you guys."
"Oh no! I hope she's alright?" Rachel looked worried
"First you, now Monica, I hope you guys don't have some kind of virus" said Ross, shuffling away from Chandler and eyeing him with mild distaste.
Chandler frowned in concern and moved back towards the table to swig back the dregs of his coffee "OK thanks Pheebs, I'll head up and check if she needs anything."
As is usually the case when a person enters a room, Chandler had developed certain expectations of what he might encounter as he pushed open the door to Apartment 20. His mind had subconsciously visualized a couple of possible scenarios, imagining that he would find Monica curled up in a ball on the sofa, or else that her headache may be significant enough for her to have sought the darkness and solitude of her bed.
So it took more than a few seconds for his mind to adjust to the reality of the scene that lay before him.
The lights were switched off, but the fading ambient light of dusk from the window was enhanced by the flickering flames of an astonishing number of candles, enough to completely envelop the room in a warming glow.
He glanced left towards the kitchen, where the table had been set in such a way that it replicated his own efforts the previous evening to the tiniest detail, and Chandler felt for a moment as if he had somehow stepped back in time.
And then there was Monica.
As his gaze landed upon her, heart-stoppingly beautiful in her long crimson gown, her crystalline eyes wide with nerves and twinkling in the candlelight, she stole the air from his lungs.
Chandler had once read Richard Burton's account of his first encounter with Elizabeth Taylor, where the actor recalled finding the young starlet so extraordinarily beautiful, that when he first clapped eyes on her he almost laughed out loud. It was a sentiment that had caused Chandler to arch a cynical eyebrow when he read it, but he suddenly understood exactly what Burton meant.
For as his mind pieced together what was happening, and he dashed across the room towards her, the only thing he found himself able to do was let out a laugh; a release of complete overwhelm, disbelieving joy and relief.
As he stood before her, their eyes meeting in electric anticipation, Monica reached out to take his hands in her delicate fingers.
"I'm so sorry I spoiled your plans Chandler, and this probably isn't exactly as you'd imagined it, but I hope it's somewhere close?" she asked him softly, as he gaped back at her, completely stunned.
"It's perfect." he eventually managed in a hoarse whisper, his mouth struggling to form the words. "You're perfect."
He squeezed her hands a little tighter, his eyes roaming her body from head to toe, as if he was checking that she was real, not just some spectacular mirage.
She smiled back at him lovingly before taking a deep breath and beginning to speak.
"Chandler, I need you to know that I love you more than anything in this whole world; more than I ever knew it was possible to love another person."
There was an almost painful desperation in her eyes as she spoke, and he could feel her need to penetrate his very soul with her words.
"I have to pinch myself every single day, because I cannot believe that I'm lucky enough to have you at my side on this incredible journey we're on."
A solitary tear that escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek was brushed away tenderly by Chandler's thumb, as he tried in vain to swallow back the emotion he could feel welling up in his own eyes.
"I don't really know how I didn't work it all out sooner, because I always knew you were special. I don't really know how to describe it, and I guess I just never really understood it... " she continued with a wistful shake of her head, "but even way before we got together, I always felt like me and you... belonged to each other, just a little bit more than we belonged to anybody else, you know? ... Obviously don't tell Joey I said that... " she added as an aside, and the two shared a wry, watery-eyed chuckle, both knowing full well that the Italian held an unshakeable belief that his own bond with Chandler could never be surpassed.
"But I understand it now. We do belong to each other, and I am the luckiest woman on the planet: Because you're the most wonderful man I ever met and I get to call you mine. You're my everything, Chandler, and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you."
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles with intense tenderness, before staring anxiously into his eyes and begging softly "Please don't make me get down on one knee though, because I'll never get back up again with this bump!"
He laughed as he mirrored her action; bringing their joined hands towards his own lips and kissing her fingertips lovingly.
"I'll do it" he promised "I've been desperate to do it."
"Oh wait.." His eyes widened as he suddenly realized that the ring had been re-hidden in their bedroom.
But Monica had thought of everything, "It's here" she whispered as she reached for his jacket that he had not noticed was draped over the arm of the sofa and held it open for him so that he could slide his arms into the sleeves.
"Phoebe Buffay is a double agent" Monica explained with a smile, smoothing down his lapels, as he reached into the pocket to retrieve the black velvet ring box he had concealed within.
He took her left hand in his own again, his eyes locked with hers, as he sank down to one knee.
Monica immediately stifled a sob, and gave a rueful chuckle as she asked "Can you even see me, over this huge baby?"
He laughed too as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on the generous swell of her abdomen, before telling her seriously, "The first thing I need you to know, Monica, is that this is not about our baby."
He brought his hand to caress the curve of her bump as he explained, "I already love this little boy or girl so much, and I will always be so grateful to him or her for helping us find our way back to each other when we got kind of lost, but I know, with my whole heart, that the two of us would have figured it all out anyway; I don't know when, and I don't know how, but I know it would have happened ; because it's just so clear to me now that we're meant to be together.".
"So this isn't about the baby; and it isn't about doing what everyone else expects us to do. This is only about you. It's about how you're the only person I have ever wanted to share my whole life with. It's about how you make me happier than I ever thought I could be, and I just want to spend every day making you feel the same way."
He eased open the lid of the dainty box to reveal the elegantly understated, art deco style solitaire ring, that he had been immediately able to imagine Monica wearing, gauging her response nervously.
The hitch in her breath was visible and a fresh flurry of tears escaped her eyes.
"It's so beautiful" she told him in a whisper as he extracted the ring from the box and held it before her.
He smiled up at her, his cerulean eyes glistening in the candlelight and swallowed hard before asking the question he had been longing to ask.
"Monica, will you marry me?"
"Yes.." she told him without hesitation, through an ecstatic half-laugh half sob. "Yes, of course I'll marry you!"
As he slipped the ring onto her finger, he was unsure whose hand was trembling the most, but as soon as he eased the white gold band over her knuckle he felt the tension that had contracted his every muscle dissolve, and his head briefly bowed as he exhaled his relief.
He leapt to his feet, his face alive with pure elation as he gathered her into his arms, feeling her eager lips, salty with tears, immediately upon his own.
Time seemed to stand still as they stood, intertwined and wordless, an endless series of gentle caresses, squeezes and kisses satisfying their mutual craving for confirmation that this was not a dream from which they would ultimately wake.
It was quite some time before either of them spoke, but eventually Monica found her languid eyes gazing out of the window into the indigo darkness of the night, her head nestled against Chandler's shoulder "I guess we won't get fireworks tonight.." she mused quietly.
Chandler drew back from her and told her with a lascivious grin and a comedic wiggle of his eyebrow "Oh... You'll get your fireworks babe, don't you worry about that!"
Monica dissolved into giggles as he nuzzled mischievously at her neck. "Oh my God, I have the cheesiest fiancé ever!"
She grinned with sheer glee, allowing herself to enjoy how the word felt in her mouth.
"I'll turn on the oven to heat up that food soon." Chandler told her, before wondering "How long do you think we have before the "motley crew" turn up?"
"Not long," guessed Monica "There's no way Phoebe will be able to restrain herself from telling everyone two days in a row."
They shared a soft chuckle before Monica's eyes became serious once more. She cupped Chandler's face adoringly in her hands and drew him into another deeply intense kiss.
There may be food to cook and friends to celebrate with, but that could all wait.
Neither one of them felt quite ready to break the perfect spell of here and now.