A/N Thank you as ever to everybody who is reading and commenting. I'm really pleased that people seem to be taking to this story so far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Monica's eyes raked over the pine-scented sparkle of the kitchen floor with some satisfaction. It was a huge relief to be back in the city, and while her move from hospital to hotel had felt disappointingly inconsequential, the move from hotel to home had felt more invigorating by far.
She was able to use her crutches with real efficiency now, so navigating her way around the apartment was easy enough, and she was making decent attempts at cooking and cleaning, both of which inspired a great sense of accomplishment.
Her incremental steps towards returning to a normal existence still felt frustratingly slow at times, but there was no denying that her strength and mobility were on the up.
Despite her increased positivity, being eternally indoors was causing her dreadful claustrophobia. She was absolutely desperate to escape the confines of the apartment, but the idea of tackling the great outdoors remained daunting, particularly given the non-stop deluge of biblical rain that had blighted New York all week long.
Richard had been working all of the hours he could in an attempt to clear the mountainous backlog of patients he had been forced to cancel on account of his wife's accident.
He had been leaving home early each morning and seldom returning before dark, which meant that Monica's days had a tendency to feel long and isolated, despite the best efforts of her friends and family, who were popping in to relieve her boredom whenever they were able.
Monica had never been so grateful to see their faces and whilst she keenly anticipated every one of these visits, there were some in particular that energized her soul.
Time had seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly ever since her accident, but this week she found that her constant obsession with the unhurried tick of the clock was fueled not by tedium, but by eagerness, because as soon as the hour hand of her wrist watch hit the gilded number one, Monica knew that brighter moments lay on the horizon.
Even though her little routine had only formed over a matter of days, her heart had wasted no time in developing a Pavlovian response to the lunchtime chime of the doorbell, leaping into a racing rhythm of excitement as she got ready to greet her favorite dog walker.
Tilly was equally as enlivened by Chandler's daily drop-in, and as the two of them made their way to answer the door, the little dog would scamper and yelp with glee whilst Monica tried to manufacture an air of cool composure, hoping to disguise the tragic fact that her enthusiasm for his arrival matched that of a soon-to-be-walked spaniel.
Those first few moments of his company were without a doubt, the highlight of Monica's day; the twinkling lopsided smile that caused a flutter in her chest, the sweet sparkle of his eyes, and best of all that greeting hug; gentle but as all-enveloping as a soft blanket; the kind of melting embrace that caused every muscle in her body to momentarily lose all tension as she squeezed her eyes tightly closed and inhaled his presence as deeply as she dared.
Today, as his arms eventually peeled themselves from her waist the two of them moved towards the sofa and Chandler held out a small brown paper bag, his face flushed with an endearing shyness that sent tremulous rhythms flitting through her chest.
"I got you something."
Monica grinned with appreciative delight as she peered into the bag, spying a large wedge of what was instantly recognizable as her favorite rich, dark chocolate cake.
"Oh my God, is this from Central Perk? I haven't had a slice of this in so long!"
"Yep. Freshly baked this morning with Gunther's love."
His wistful tone was convincing enough that Monica momentarily doubted what she knew to be true.
"There's no way Gunther bakes the cakes!" she rejected with amused skepticism.
"No, probably not," Chandler conceded, "I guess I just like to imagine him in one of those little white chef's hats"
Monica smirked as she pulled herself back to standing with her crutches.
"Whatever floats your boat, I guess!" she flashed him a soft smile of gratitude as she gathered up the bag, "Thank you for this, I'm going to save it until later though, if that's OK?"
"So you don't have to share it with me?" Chandler guessed, arching a wry eyebrow as he bent down to scratch Tilly's head.
"Maybe," Monica admitted casting him a coquettish glance as she hopped nimbly towards the kitchen to find a place to store the decadent treat.
Chandler observed her agile crutch-work with a look of admiration.
"Wow! Look at you go! You'll be doing stunts with those things soon."
"I know!" Monica shot him a proud grin from over her shoulder, "If the weather wasn't so bad I'd probably try to take a little hop down the street. I'm honestly going stir crazy being stuck inside all the time, I can't wait to get out."
Chandler turned to look out of the window into the damp grey murkiness, regarding the persistent rain with thought, "Yeah, it's pretty bad today, I don't think you should go out there. But I heard the sun's coming out tomorrow..."
"Aw, somebody's been listening to his "Annie" soundtrack again!" Monica teased, landing a jovial pat against his thigh as she flopped down next to him on the sofa.
He returned a sarcastic smirk before proposing, "So, maybe you should come out for a walk with Tilly and me tomorrow? Get a little fresh air?"
"Yeah, I'd really like that."
Her breathy answer emerged from her lips rather more intensely and eagerly than she had intended, and their gaze suddenly connected in such a way that any remaining air was stolen from her lungs.
She had no real idea where these little moments came from; the sudden rushes of electricity that caused her pulse to flutter and her spine to fizz, and the potent glances that made her cheeks glow warm; it was all as unpredictable as it was delicious.
Delicious but terribly wrong.
She knew that.
Their unbidden eye contact was broken all too soon by the whine of the dog, who paced with undisguised impatience between Chandler and the front door.
His utterance of the phrase "walk with Tilly", had rendered her frenzied with excitement and she was now panting frantically, her paws scrabbling relentlessly against the wooden floor.
Chandler gave a loud sigh of resignation as he eyed the frenetic little creature, not particularly relishing the idea of having to leave Monica and the cosy warmth of her living room in favor of a rainy and windswept stomp through the park, but that was why he was here, after all.
"Come on then, Tilly Vanilli. Let's get this over and done with."
"I'm sorry you have to go out in this," Monica eyed him guiltily, "I'll make you some hot tea when you get back?"
"And maybe then we could eat the cake?" he suggested hopefully as he fastened his jacket tight and attached Tilly to her leash.
Monica's lips curved as she scrunched her nose and shook her head in mildly apologetic rejection.
"Nice try. The cake's mine."
His twinkling gaze continued to pierce her thoughts all day long, and as she lay horizontal on the sofa that evening, clad in black silk pyjamas and just about ready for bed, her mind continued to clasp the ghost of his presence tightly against her aching chest.
Her glazed blue eyes stared unseeingly towards the ceiling as she replayed his departure in her mind, recalling the sensation of his gentle fingertips tingling against her waist and the soft warmth of his lips as they brushed their chaste farewell against her cheek.
She ran a troubled palm across her face and raked her fingers across her scalp, roughly grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging it slightly, in a self-loathing attempt to inflict enough mild pain to chastise her obsessive mind.
She was beginning to feel more than a little unnerved by this... crush, or whatever it was, and could only hope that as she continued to recover from her fall, when her mobility increased and her life got back to normal, her brain would occupy itself with more decent and regular topics.
Work, perhaps.
Her marriage.
Starting a family.
A few weeks ago Monica could not have imagined that it would be possible for her to get through so much as an hour without being preoccupied by babies and menstrual cycles, and she could not quite believe that it had taken another, infinitely more dangerous fixation to tear her mind away.
She chewed on her thumbnail as her eyes moved guiltily towards the kitchen where she could hear Richard clattering around after another long day at work, presumably in search of food.
"I made mac and cheese earlier, if you'd like some. It's in the fridge.", she called through to him helpfully, ripping her compulsive thoughts away from the verboten world of agonizing fantasy she had concocted for herself and back to real life.
Back to the man she had committed to love for all eternity.
She exhaled a long meditative breath, hoping it might prove grounding, as she rotated her healing left wrist, observing its improved movement and seeking comfort and optimism from her continuing physical recovery.
She just needed to get out more.
That was all this was.
Yes, she was certain that existing outside of the apartment and returning to a life more ordinary, would nip all of this ridiculous adolescent yearning in the bud.
Her plans to get outdoors and take a walk with Tilly tomorrow surely represented a positive new start...
With Tilly... and Chandler.
She pressed her eyes closed and felt her brow furrow painfully as an annoying thrill of fervor shuddered its way through her core and reignited her self-reproach.
"Did you find the mac and cheese?" she called through to Richard, her voice sounding more regular and domestic than it had any right to.
He appeared in the doorway holding the brown paper bag that Chandler had brought over with him earlier.
"I actually grabbed a sandwich at my desk whilst I finished off some paperwork, so I'm not all that hungry", Richard told her, " I do like the look of this though, is it alright if I have some?"
Monica rolled her eyes and gave him a grudging smile, relieved for the distraction of cake and conversation.
"I guess so. Just a sliver though. Could you please bring me the rest? I'd forgotten all about it."
When Richard eventually made his way towards her carrying two small plates having divided up the cake in such a way that indicated a complete disregard for her explicit instructions, Monica eyed his far too generous piece with a frown of mock-outrage.
"Hey! I said a sliver!"
"You're not normally this selfish, Honey! What's going on?" he admonished with an indulgent chuckle, tousling her hair as he passed by to take a seat on the sofa.
"It's my favorite cake!" she shrugged and threw him a rueful grin.
He sat companionably at her side and dug his fork into the dense chocolate frosting and they both quietened as they began to eat.
"It is good," Richard admitted, "Where did you get it?"
Monica shifted primly in her seat, using the side of her fork to shave a fastidiously precise corner from the velvety sponge, as she told him lightly, "It's from Central Perk. Chandler brought it over".
Her eyes remained staunchly fixed on her plate as she heard Richard's fork clink against his.
Of course Chandler brought it over.
"That was good of him", Richard remarked evenly after an uncomfortable pause.
They finished the remainder of their snack in rather uneasy silence, and then Richard stacked their crumb smeared dishes and forks together before standing up, solemn-faced.
"I forgot to mention...", he began neutrally, "I actually called the dog-walker this morning and I've arranged for her to take Tilly every afternoon this week and next."
He could feel Monica's eyes burning into him but he did not turn to meet her gaze, instead he walked steadily towards the kitchen as he continued to speak.
"You may want to call Chandler and let him know that he can step down. Or I can call him. We can't keep expecting him to give up his lunch break every single day, it's too much."
Way too much.
Richard placed the dishes carefully into the sink and then picked up the paper bag that had previously contained the cake, balling it up tightly in his fist.
He moved across the room towards the refrigerator, easing open the drawer that stood adjacent, and removing the dog walker's business card and slipping it into his pocket.
He just had to hope that the woman would answer the clandestine call he now had to make, and that she would have time to fit Tilly into her schedule as he had just described.
His pensive eyes narrowed slightly as he awaited a reaction from his wife.
"Did you hear what I said, Honey?" he called again when she failed to respond.
"Yes" Monica's eventual reply was dispassionate, "I'll call Chandler and let him know".
"Great."
Richard flipped open the lid of the trash can and disposed of the Central Perk bag with far more vigor than the task required.
Just as Chandler had predicted, the seemingly eternal ominous obsidian of the sky finally shattered to reveal splashes of welcome sunshine the next morning, and the city came alive, cleansed by the rain and looking brand new.
After days of seeking refuge in coffee houses, and stores, and beneath huge umbrellas, humanity had returned to the streets and Monica watched from her window as eager joggers pounded the sidewalks, walkers suddenly strode out with a sense of cheer that matched that of their dogs, and parents pursued gum-booted toddlers as they hopscotched joyfully through the puddles.
She gave a glum sigh.
It would have been the perfect day for her planned amble through the park with Chandler and Tilly, and one look at the sky told her that this window of opportunity would be fleeting: It was common knowledge that the rain was set to return later that day.
Instead of enjoying the freedom and company she so desperately desired, Monica was alone and indoors yet again.
Even more alone than usual in fact, because Tilly had been scooped up by the dog walker twenty minutes ago and would not be returned to Monica's care for a couple of hours.
Tilly's departure from the apartment marked a long afternoon of desolate solitude and when she had watched from the window as that comforting little presence scampered away down the street, Monica almost began to cry.
The tick of the clock taunted her once more; mimicking the lonely beat of her bored heart; and a wave of angry despair suddenly ignited her fierce internal fire of independence and dragged her into action.
She clenched her jaw as she pulled on her black woolen jacket, snatched up her crutches and headed decisively for the city streets.
The stairs were a nightmare to navigate with crutches, and pushing open the heavy front door of the building was no mean feat either, and Monica's face contorted with determination as she shoved hard with her shoulder whilst simultaneously struggling to maintain her balance, finally managing to wobble her uncertain way out onto the sidewalk.
She leaned back against the cool exterior wall for just a moment, in order to catch her breath.
The fact that she was hot, bothered and exhausted without having even left her building's vicinity was not exactly inspiring her with confidence and she could feel mounting frustration at her lack of physical competence beginning to manifest as an emotional lump in her throat.
She swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, taking both crutches in one hand as she attempted to unbutton her jacket to allow the brisk air to cool her already over-exerted body.
"Hey! Whatcha doin' Hop Along?"
An unexpected voice close to her ear caused her to gasp and almost drop one of her sticks. Her head swung around in shock and she found herself staring into Chandler's grinning face.
As he perceived the precariousness provoked by her considerable surprise, he moved one steadying hand to her waist, the other reaching out to stabilize her crutch as he pre-empted its fall from her grasp.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump!" he chuckled ruefully, "Well, not quite so hard anyway."
"Oh my God, Chandler! Does this not look difficult enough?" Monica huffed crossly, giving his shin an outraged poke with her crutch.
"I'm sorry" he reiterated softly, bending to gently peck her cheek with a kiss of apology that felt so sweet she would most likely have forgiven him anything.
"Hey! I can't believe you were about to stand me up and head out alone though. I thought we had a date?" he gently jabbed at her shoulder with his index finger in a gesture of mock-scolding.
A sad smile glanced across Monica's lips and she looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes loaded with regret.
"Didn't you get my message? I asked Joey to let you know that Richard has sent Tilly to the dog walker."
"Yeah he told me." Chandler confirmed, his eyes softly amused as he told her "I know Tilly is my best girl and all, but she's not the only reason I come over here you know.."
Monica bit down on her bottom lip as her skin began to tingle, and Chandler suddenly looked a little shy too as he smiled back into her sapphire gaze.
"How come I got fired anyway? What does this fancy dog walker have that I don't have?" he teased as they began to move away from the building in the direction of the park.
"It wasn't my decision."
Chandler detected the hint of reproach in her quietly muttered words.
"Huh. Well, maybe Richard's worried about Tilly and I spending so much time together".
As soon as the slightly devilish comment had dropped from his lips Chandler knew he had spoken unwisely, and he stared resolutely ahead when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Monica's head whip around sharply.
"He just didn't want to put you to any trouble. And neither do I" the stiffness of her words almost masked their unconvincing core.
"Hanging out with you is never a chore, Mon." he told her gruffly, "You should know that."
He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his lightweight raincoat, embarrassed to have exposed the modicum of spite he clearly harbored towards her husband, and he moved swiftly on.
"Anyway, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be heading out alone when the ground is still so wet, it might be pretty slippery."
They continued their walk towards the park without speaking for a moment and Monica noted that despite the brief suggestion of tension that had arisen from Chandler's mention of Richard, their silence remained comfortable and warm.
The two of them had always been able to exist in this way: Communicating and connecting without need for conversation; gaps in their chatter feeling like a gentle embrace, not a void to be awkwardly filled.
A sense of calm washed over Monica as she breathed in the cool city air that seemed somehow purified by the persistent rain.
Autumnal color had been rinsed from the boughs of the trees, the leaves that had glowed yellow and orange a few weeks previously, now formed a rich brown mulch on the ground.
"It's so good to be out" she mused wistfully as Chandler smiled back at her with fondness.
"You're doing so well, Mon" he told her encouragingly "You'll be back to normal before you know it".
She eyed him thoughtfully.
"Some things are actually a little better than normal now" she reflected, "Even though being stuck at home is boring as hell, it's actually been pretty nice seeing so much of everybody; Rachel and Phoebe have been so sweet, and even Joey called around to visit this week - I can't remember the last time he came to my apartment!"
She paused and felt her chest tighten a little as she continued quietly, "And it's been good to spend more time with you. I really appreciate everything you've done for me".
Chandler looked down with a modest shake of his head, swallowing hard as he recalled the night of Tim's party, and Monica's sorrowful admission of her feelings of isolation.
"Well, that's not going to change" he promised her solidly "I told you before, we're going to make more of an effort to see one another".
He desperately wanted to wrap an arm around her, but was worried about upsetting her delicate balance.
"Which reminds me, Joey said he would get us all tickets for his play when it opens next week, if you think you'll be up to that? I said I'd check with you. He'll get a ticket for Richard too, of course"
"Sounds good" she smiled, warmed by the idea of seeing all of her friends together, "It's Shakespeare isn't it?"
A wry grin broke across Chandler's face as he explained "It's Romeo and Juliet, but with a twist..."
Monica's face melted into a dubious smirk as she recalled some of the frankly bewildering re-imagined classics Joey had appeared in over the years, daring to ask "Oh God. What's the twist this time?"
"It's set in a karaoke bar in the future," Chandler deadpanned, enjoying Monica's consequent chuckle.
"I'm not going to warn Richard" she decided with an impish smirk, "So anyway, is Joey sleeping with his co-star yet?"
"Just the make-up artist at the moment I think. But he still has another week of rehearsals, so give him time."
They reached a small outdoor cafe that sat next to a usually pretty, but currently overflowing water fountain, and decided to take a seat and enjoy a coffee, allowing Monica to come off her crutches and rest her wrist for a while.
As they continued to chat, neither one of them noticed the darkening threat of the sky, and before they had time to finish their drinks, the charcoal clouds were unable to hold onto their cascade any longer.
The fat drops of rain that fell sporadically at first were the kind that were so weighty, that everybody in the park knew that the heavens were about to open.
A sudden sense of urgency prickled in the atmosphere as people gathered up their belongings, zipped up their coats and picked up their pace, ready to escape the deluge that all could sense was imminent.
As Monica struggled with the buttons of the woollen jacket that would offer little protection from the drenching they were about to receive, Chandler stood her crutches up, ready for her to slip them beneath her arms so they could scarper.
The sound of raindrops slapping with velocity against the earth reached their ears seconds before they felt a multitude of frigid globules of water begin to saturate their skin and Chandler held a futile elbow above both of their heads in a vain attempt to fend off the punishing torrent.
The unexpected extremity of the downpour caused Monica to release a childlike squeal of astonishment and the two of them exchanged a grin as they squinted through the hard pellets of rain and began to move as quickly as they could in a homeward direction.
After being cosseted indoors for so long, this brutal exposure to the elements felt tremendously invigorating to Monica, but her initially delighted smiles began to fade when her sodden fingers started to lose their grip on her crutches and she felt suddenly unstable.
Chandler turned as he sensed her hesitance and realized she was lagging behind.
"My hands are too slippery for this!" she spoke loudly over the roar of the rain, her eyes somewhat panicked all of a sudden.
Chandler stopped to wrap an arm of assistance about her waist, but the crutches hindered his ability to get in a position that would offer any meaningful support and eventually he took the decision to grab the sticks from her hands and crouch down before her, gesturing for her to climb onto his back.
"What?" she asked incredulously as she blinked away the rivulets of raindrops that were dripping down into her eyes from her already saturated hair.
"Quick! Hop on!" he demanded.
She shook her head with a giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck and mounted his back without further persuasion.
"Is that OK? Am I hurting you?" he checked, mindful of her damaged wrist and ankle, as he hooked his arms firmly around her thighs and hoisted her higher on his hips.
"I'm fine!" she assured him, wincing at his grunts of exertion as he got her into a position of relative comfort, "But what about you?"
"Just hang on tight." he told her heroically, as he grappled with her unwieldy crutches.
"Well put your foot down then! I'm soaked through!" she teased as he began to charge along the sidewalk as quickly as he was able.
"Oh, am I going too slow for you, Madam? I do apologize!" he shot back sarcastically, "I'm not exactly bone dry myself!
"You're wearing me like a coat!" Monica pointed out "And my jacket's not even waterproof!"
"Well if you'd said that before you could have had mine! You can use my hood though?" he suggested as he continued to stride along with vigor.
"How the hell would that work in this position? You think I should pull it up over my face?" she chortled.
"No! It detatches!"
She let out a guffaw of laughter.
"I'm not wearing your hood like a bonnet Chandler! I'm pretty sure we look ridiculous enough as it is!"
She turned her head and caught the eye of an elderly man who was watching their awkward, crutch-hindered piggyback from beneath the shelter of his umbrella, his expression of amusement immediately confirming her suspicion.
As Chandler plodded resolutely on Monica pressed her wet face into his neck, her giggles slowly subsiding as she closed her eyes and inhaled softly but deeply, immersing herself in the fresh citrus of his shower gel combined with that subtle familiar scent of warmth that was just intrinsically him.
That lungful of comfort made every one of her muscles involuntarily contract around him, an instinctive urge to squeeze him closer completely overwhelming her.
She was suddenly agonizingly aware of the way her lips were grazing the downy skin at the nape of his neck with every step he took, and she found herself fighting back a near uncontrollable desire to shape them into a gentle kiss.
She wondered if he felt it too.
The downpour continued to thrum against the sidewalk and Chandler paused to take a breath and adjust his grip on the cumbersome crutches.
"No pit stops!" Monica commanded as she grinned into his hair, "Come on Champ! You're doing really well! We're almost there!"
"My God, Woman! Reach into my saddle bags, maybe there's a carrot in there you could dangle in front of my nose to giddy me up!"
"Carrot? You'll be lucky, Bing" she told him with a throaty chuckle, "I'm more of a stick kinda girl. Now get moving!"
He gripped her thighs more tightly as the heat of her breath against his ear sent a wave of electricity down his spine.
By the time they reached her building and he lowered her carefully to the ground the lashing rain had thankfully lost a little of its power.
He turned to face her and helped her to slide her wet crutches beneath her armpits, before unconsciously bringing his fingertips to her face to push back some of the saturated raven strands that were plastered against her forehead.
The surprising tenderness of his touch caused her breath to hitch and she gazed up into his face, her pulse racing faster as she connected with his cerulean eyes.
A frown of confusion laced with mild annoyance bothered her brow though, when he inexplicably began to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Bad day not to wear waterproof mascara.." he observed with a chuckle.
She rolled her eyes and returned a despairing smirk.
"Oh God, is it bad?"
"Depends how much you want to look like Alice Cooper I guess?" he responded moving his hands to her cheeks and using his thumbs to gently wipe at the black smears beneath her eyes. "Serves you right for being too vain to wear my hood".
Their faces were so close that she could feel the combined humidity of their breath against the chill of the air and without really meaning to she slid her body nearer too, the extreme proximity prompting her heart to hammer hard against her ribs. She watched the gentle concentration in his eyes as he tried to focus on tidying her streaked makeup, but the intensity of her gaze was unignorable, eventually forcing him to pause, his eyes locking with hers as his fingertips continued to softly cup her upturned face.
He could clearly discern the heavy rise and fall of her chest and he felt his face inch even closer to hers, dragged by some dangerous gravitational force and gripped by a wild compulsion to kiss away the raindrops that pooled on her bottom lip.
"I should probably get going" he scarcely managed to mumble, dropping his hands from her face in the hope of breaking the spell.
But they only made it as far as her waist.
"No"
She looked immediately embarrassed by her instantaneous vehement objection, but she stood by it.
"You're soaked through, you should come inside and dry off" she suggested in a trembling whisper.
He knew he should not go up there.
He should just leave.
There was a kind of feverish fear in her eyes that told him that she knew just as well as he did that inviting him into her apartment right now was a terrible idea.
Despicable.
But intoxicating nonetheless.
Anyway, he could hardly leave her to navigate the stairs alone, could he?
He suddenly felt helpless, physically incapable of unraveling himself from her, his eyes glued to her beautiful rain-drenched face and his hands fused to her waist.
"Are you sure you want me to come up?" he murmured.
"Yeah" she breathed with a small nod, her eyes anxious but dark with smoulder, "I'm really sure".
A gulp of air caught in his throat and his fingers gripped her middle a little more firmly, entranced as he was by the visible dilation of her pupils.
But suddenly her gaze had moved on.
He turned to follow her line of sight and saw Richard marching down the street towards them, his expression as black as the vast golfing umbrella he held aloft.
"What's going on?" he questioned, shaking the moisture from his umbrella, and throwing Chandler a filthy look as removed his long coat and wrapped it territorially around his wife's shoulders, "You're absolutely drenched."
"Chandler and I took a walk," Monica croaked huskily, "The sun was out when we left... but we got a little caught out."
"Didn't you just," Richard stared intently into her face as she willfully avoided his gaze.
He turned towards Chandler "Didn't you get the message? I arranged for a dog walker to take Tilly."
"Uh yeah, I know. I don't just walk dogs, you know. I thought since it was a nice day I could walk Monica instead," he replied meeting Richard's stern eyes with bright congeniality before quipping "Unfortunately, I lost her in the park, so I brought Alice Cooper back with me. I hope that's OK."
Monica trialled a small laugh as she gestured towards her face "That's what Chandler was doing just now. He was just trying to help me with my mascara."
Richard was un-amused by Chandler's joke and unmoved by his wife's stuttered excuse.
"I kind of like walking Monica myself, thank you Chandler. That's why I rescheduled some of my patients and came home."
He looked back at his wife with grave, accusatory eyes "I was worried you might be lonely without Tilly, so I thought I could take you out to grab a coffee."
A heavy anchor of guilt dragged at Monica's heart as she proposed softly, "Well... we still can..I just need to change into some dry clothes first.."
"I'm going to take off" Chandler backed away with thinly veiled awkwardness, pulling up the unused flimsy hood of his coat and allowing his eyes only the most fleeting connection with Monica's "I'll see you guys soon".
As he paced off down the street a thudding drumbeat of self-condemnation pulsated through his chest.
The line he was walking was both thin and dangerous.
He was certain that his intentions had never started out as dishonorable; Chandler was not that type of man. All he wanted to do was offer his friend the comfort and support she had made abundantly clear she was lacking, and he did not really know how or when this virtue had descended into vice.
He did know that he should create some distance though. He ought to do what Ross had said: He should ease-off and allow this dizzying storm of heady imperilment to pass.
But abandoning Monica was simply not an option, and as Chandler reached the corner of the street and cast an unyielding glance back over his shoulder, he knew that whatever the rights and wrongs, he would be right back here tomorrow.