~* Because you all are fabulous reviewers, and I'm having the most fantastic week ever, here is the second chapter set in Monica's point of view. I'm sorry it took me so long to get it up, my week was fantastic, but extremely busy. So here you go, and please review. The song, which is great by the way, is by The Old 97's. Please review again!*~

Disclaimer: So the characters aren't mine, so what? I'll put them back as soon as I'm done playing.

I forgave him. I did. And I don't regret it, because I love him. I love him. It's been so hard to say it, for both of us, but I love him, and he loves me. Even after the many times he has told me it, I still get butterflies in my stomach. Just last night, he told me and my heart flipped. He said,

"Monica, I love you." Just like that. That simple. As if those were the easiest words in the universe to say: I love you. I can tell you, as the receiver of those words, that those words are the most beautiful words to hear in the English language. In any language! J'ai adore. That's all I remember from my four years of French. Wait no, I also remember Je ne sais pas. Which is "I don't know." That's what is running through my head now. I don't know. I don't know how to explain how I love him, and how he makes me feel. I don't know if we'll work, and I don't know if we're going to be together forever. I do know that I'll love him forever. As cliched as that sounds, I will. He is lying next to me and snoring, he claims that he doesn't snore, that I am the one who snores, but he is as loud as a buzz saw at night. I giggle as I reach over and place my arms around him. Instinctively, he pulls me closer. What was I thinking when I thought that I could live without him? I was crazy, I can't live without him, I can't function without him.

"Mon?" I woke him up. Oops. But I can't say that I'm not glad that he's up. I can't sleep, and when I can't sleep, I like to have company.


"What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep."

"Do you want me to make some warm milk?" Do you see why I love this adorable man, even if he snores, and his breath is pretty stinky when he's awoken in the middle of the night.

"You don't know how to."

"How hard can it be?" He props himself onto his elbow and looks at me. "I just stick it in a pot and warm it up." I giggle again.

"Okay." He yawns and throws his legs over the side of the bed and kisses me on the forehead before leaving the bedroom. Warm milk. The idea honestly always repulsed me, but maybe it's good. Who knows?

"Monica?" I hear and I get out of bed cursing the cold as I slip on my robe and slippers.

"Yeah?" I walk out into the living room and smile at him.

"We have a problem on the milk," his face holds a small grin.


"We don't have any." I laugh.

"Okay, then," I say. "No milk." He comes over and places his arms around my waist.

"I have an idea of how to tire you out," he whispers into my ear. My eyes widen and I smile. See why I love this man?

She woke from a dream

her head was on fire

why was he so nervous?

He left a note on the table. I found it when I came in from work. It was in his distinct handwriting asking me to meet him at the park. I grabbed my jacket and walked down to Central Park. I walked to the entrance nearest to our apartment and find him sitting on a bench.

"Hey," he says as I walk closer.


"Took you long enough," he teases standing up.

"I was at a little thing called work," I respond rocking back and forth. "So what's up? Why the park?" I cross my arms and look around. He pulls out a blanket and a bottle of wine and takes my hand.

"I thought we might have a little picnic," he says and I see the basket sitting under the bench which I grab for him and he picks a spot under a tree. It's a beautiful fall day. I love fall, I do. It's by far my favorite season of the year, with all the trees changing colors. Ross told me that fall is depressing because it only leads to winter, and that spring is the better season because it's a time for renewal and growth. I suppose he has a point, but I didn't tell him that, because it doesn't make me love fall any less. Especially New York in the fall; New York in the fall is gorgeous. It makes you really glad to be a New Yorker when Central Park turns all shades of reds, yellows, and oranges. We sit under the tree and I look into the basket and begin pulling out food and placing it on the blanket beside us.

"What's the occasion?" I ask as he pours wine into my glass.

"Can't I just take my beautiful girlfriend to the park?" He's buttering me up. That's a sure sign that he has done something wrong.

"What'd you do?" He laughs.

"Nothing, I haven't done anything wrong," he assures me. I breathe a sigh of relief. I should trust him wholeheartedly, but I can't. I just can't. Ever since he kissed that girl. What was her name? Something ugly. Laura? No, that wasn't it. Lauren. I hate that name. Well, I used to love it, but now it's tainted. I can't ever name my daughter that. So I don't trust him completely, but I'm working on it.

"So why are we here?"

"Just because." I hate that answer. I think that people should have real answers and not stupid ones like because. I keep my mouth shut, though, I wouldn't want to ruin this perfect picnic. And maybe I can live with because. No, definitely can't.

"Because why?"

"Monica, it'll all be revealed with time."

"But I want to know now." I'm impatient, I always have been. I thought he would get mad, and we'd fight and once again I would have ruined a perfectly peaceful moment. Like the time he was moving in with me and I was all upset because Rachel was gone, and everything was changing, and he hugged me and I was safe and happy in his arms and change wasn't so scary after all. And then I saw the dog. That ugly white, porcelain dog that Joey had bought for some unknown reason. And I ruined the moment by asking why it was there, and then we fought over where to put it, but he complied and placed it outside just to please me. But today he just laughed.

"Mon. I have a good reason, you just need to trust me." There's that awful "T" word again.

"Okay," I concede and he smiles gratefully at me.

He took her to the park

she crossed her arms

and lowered her eyes down

"How about some desert?" He asks as he stands up.

"Where are you going?"

"To get us some ice cream. I'll be right back," he calls as he jogs away. I sigh and look around at the people in the park. There is a little girl and her father playing in the sandbox about fifteen feet away. They look so happy. The little girl giggles and throws the sand in the air.

"Now, now Emma," he admonishes. Emma. That's the name that I've always wanted to name my daughter. Emma Grace. Maybe it is a sign. Then again I don't believe in signs, Chandler does. Which shocks the crap out of me, I got to tell you. I wouldn't have pegged him for a signs kind of guy, but he does. He told me once that he believed in fate and that everything happens for a reason. He also believes that his one pair of underwear is lucky. Just when you think that you know someone they go and shock you.

"Daddy! Swing now," the little girl, Emma, runs toward where I am sitting. I glace behind me to see the swings are to my left.

"Emma, wait up," he yells as he comes after her. She stops short in front of me.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi," I smile back at her.

"What's your name?" She asks.

"Monica, and yours?"


"That's a very pretty name." The father has caught up by now.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes.

"No, it's okay," I tell him.

"Why are you eating by yourself?" Emma asks.

"Emma," he chides. I just laugh.

"I was eating with someone, but he went to go get us ice cream," I explain to her.

"It's too cold for ice cream," Emma points out. Both her father and I laugh and I see Chandler approaching.

"Come on Emma," the father scoops her up in his arms.

"Bye Emma."

"Bye Monica," she calls as they walk away. Chandler grins and sits down on the blanket. He hands one of the cones to me. I look at it and then look back up at him and then back down at the ice cream again. Instead of a cherry, there sits a gorgeous diamond ring.

someday somebody's gonna ask you

a question that you should say yes to

once in your life

maybe tonight, I've got a question for you

"Monica? Will you marry me?" He asks. I feel the tears well up in my eyes and begin to tumble out. I had no idea he was going to do this. I pride myself on knowing exactly what he is doing and going to do, what everyone is doing or going to do, and I completely missed this one.

"Oh Mon, I'm sorry I didn't mean to...you don't have to....it's okay," he stutters.

"No," I say.

"No? Okay. That's fine, I just thought...."

"Chandler," I laugh. "Stop. No, I'm crying because I'm happy. Yes, I will marry you."



"You're sure?"



"Chandler, I'm sure." He laughs and kisses me. Then he kisses my cheeks where the tears are still falling furiously. So this is what this feels like. This is what it feels like to be completely, 100 percent happy. He takes the ring out of the ice cream and wipes it off before slipping it onto my finger.

"Perfect fit," he whispers as he holds me close to him.

"Perfect," I repeat. Perfect. Well, not entirely perfect, but close enough. I love him. He loves me. No amount of Laura's or whatever her name was, or Richard's can ever change that. And I trust him. It just hit me, like in the cartoons when the light bulb lights up above the character's head? That was me. I trusted him. I really, honestly did, and I had the sudden realization that he would never hurt me on purpose again.

"Monica," he whispers.


"I love you."

"I love you too." Perfect.

she had no idea

she started to cry

she said in a good way

We gather the picnic things and start back to home. He takes my hand in his and I smile at him. It's early evening now and the sun is starting to set. This is my favorite time of the day, another thing that my brother tries to argue with me about. But I love this time. The Irish call it the gloaming. I love that word. The gloaming. My grandmother always used to say it was the time when the heavens met the earth.

"The sun is setting," he whispers. "It's the gloaming." I glance at him in surprise.

"What did you say?"

"It's the gloaming, that's what the Irish call it," he smiles at me.

"I know," I reply. "I just..." Maybe it was a sign, maybe I believe in signs, maybe this means that we'll work.

"I want to watch all my sunsets with you," he says. I have the sudden image in my head of us sitting on a porch watching the sunset together. I giggle and kiss him.

"Yes." I look down at my hand where my ring is now place. It sparkles and gleams in the disappearing light of the sun.

"Are you happy?" He asks.

"Yes," I don't even have to think about it. Yes. I am happy. This is what I've always wanted. A marriage to a man who loves me. It was the thing that I would dream about when I was seven and eating my seventh helping of Twinkies. And this was exactly how I had imagined it. We arrive back at the apartment building and he pulls out his keys and opens the door for me. We laugh as we walk up the stairs and find Rachel and Joey leaving.

"Hey," they both say at the same time.

"Where were you guys?" Rachel asks.

"At the park," I tell her. "We had a picnic." My left hand is still tucked in Chandler's and neither of us makes a move to show them the ring. It's just ours, and we both want to keep it that way, at least for now.

"Was it nice?" Joey asks.

"It was wonderful," Chandler answers.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"Dinner, do you want to come?" Rachel asks.

"No thanks," Chandler replies. "We'll see you guys later."

"Okay, bye," they both leave and we enter the apartment.

he took her by the hand

and walked her back home

and they took the long way

I can hear the traffic below as we lie in bed that night. He's sleeping and I can't sleep again. I keep studying my ring and pinching myself to make sure that this isn't some dream that I'll suddenly wake up from and it'll all be a big mistake. He didn't really propose, that I'm lying here alone. But he did, and he's here next to me and everything is right in the world. We'll tell everyone tomorrow the big news. I can only imagine my mother's reaction when I tell her that I am marrying the boy who hates Thanksgiving. A thought hits me.

I don't care.

I'm getting married. To Chandler. I'm getting married to Chandler.

It's fantastic. It's wonderful. It's amazing.

"Can't you sleep again?" His voice breaks my thoughts and I turn to him.

"Nope," I say.

"Do you want me to make you that warm milk now?"

"We never bought any milk," I point out.

"I'll run down to the store and get some," he offers.

"It's three in the morning."


"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you though." I kiss him. He rubs his hand along my arm.


"Okay," I repeat.

"Try to go to sleep though," he tells me.

"I can't."

"Count sheep."

"I don't like sheep."

"How can you not like sheep?"

"I just don't."

"What animal do you like?" I think about this for a moment.


"Count dogs then."

"Why are dogs jumping over a fence?"

"Why are sheep? Dogs make a little more sense," he argues.


"Because they're trying to escape."

"From what?"

"I don't know, Monica, go to sleep." He hits me with a pillow and I giggle and move closer to him.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you too," he whispers back. "But if you don't shut up and let me sleep I will move to Canada."

"Why Canada?"

"Goodnight Monica."

"Okay." I smile in the dark as he shuts his eyes. I look at my hand one more time before closing my eyes and imaging dogs jumping a fence.

someday somebody's gonna ask you

a question that you should say yes to

once in your life

baby tonight, I've got a question for you

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