Chapter Text
She must have fantasized about this very moment one hundred times before, but not once had it ever felt like this.
In many ways, this was what she had always wanted, wasn't it? If this had happened just a couple of months ago, her nervous trembles would have been edged with excitement; it might have even felt like everything was slotting right into place.
But not anymore.
Instead, she emerged from the bathroom numb with disbelief, her heart a leaden weight sinking right into the pit of her stomach.
Her mind was in a spin. She knew she had to think. She knew she had to act. But all she really wanted to do right now was hide. She felt so dizzy, she was barely capable of thinking any further ahead than an immediate need to lie down.
She stumbled towards her bedroom on enfeebled legs, desperate to sink her face into her pillows and drag her covers right up over her head, but as she flung the door open and stepped inside, she suddenly remembered that she didn't even have a proper bed right now.
She had a damned race car instead.
Her head lolled back and a whine of pure despair sang out from her throat.
She pushed the bedroom door closed behind her and let her despondent body fall back against it with a thud, but when her eyes actually landed on the plastic, child-size bed that had been delivered to her in error, she gasped and froze.
It wasn't even empty.
"Chandler!"
He had been poking around the ridiculous piece of furniture with unfathomable intrigue all day, and here he was again, sitting cross-legged on the plastic covered mattress like an overgrown kindergartner, inspecting the fake tires, and messing around with the flimsy little steering wheel.
Acknowledging her presence, but apparently oblivious to her distress, he glanced towards her with a greeting so unbothered it made her want to scream.
"Hey Mon." He said, giving the center of the steering wheel a cheerful beep as he unfurled his legs.
"Get. Out." She snarled through clenched teeth.
She had already kicked him out of here twice today, so he was well prepared for another ejection, but this time her tone was so unexpectedly harsh it really made him flinch.
He swung around to face her, his blue eyes so stung and bemused that under normal circumstances Monica would probably have felt guilty; but she was struggling to feel anything beyond blind panic right now. She turned her face away, so she didn't have to look at him.
Mumbling a sheepish apology Chandler leapt to his feet, eyeing her warily as he made his way towards the door. She didn't respond. She couldn't. She just crossed her arms in a protective knot around her chest and pressed her eyes closed, desperate to give in to a swell of anxious tears that was waiting to consume her.
He scuttled as far as the door but then hesitated. She had thought that might happen. No matter how keen he was to avoid her wrath, he would never knowingly ignore her pain.
"Are you OK?" He asked tentatively.
"Yes." She snapped unconvincingly, her shoulders tightly bunched as she continued to stare straight ahead. Part of her hoped he'd just accept it and run, but she kind of knew that he wouldn't.
"You look really upset…"
He sounded gentle. Serious. The fact that he wasn't berating her for being grumpy, or even trying to diffuse the tension with a jocular comment was a sure sign that her behavior was causing him genuine concern.
Slowly, she turned towards him, watching in silence as his worried eyes roamed all over her face, forensically examining her for clues as to what was wrong.
She wanted to keep her angst to herself for far longer; to guard it and shelter it from the opinions of everybody else. She needed time to process. But his gaze felt so tender, it weakened her somehow; she felt her ribs slackening and she began to lose control of her breath.
"What happened?" He persisted, daring to reach out a cautious hand and take her gently by the arm.
She had been trying so hard to keep it together, but that one small touch felled her. She stepped forward and collapsed against his chest in such a way that could only enforce a hug.
She shouldn't tell him. She shouldn't tell anyone. Not until she'd had a chance to think things through. But being wrapped up in the sympathetic embrace of a good friend was an invitation to unburden that she found she just couldn't refuse. His touch opened her up and his arms squeezed the words out of her. Words that she'd always imagined she would speak with shining eyes and an overwhelmed smile.
"I'm pregnant." She whispered, a fat, woeful tear spilling from her lower lashes and soaking immediately into his shirt.
Chandler was rendered speechless for a moment, and his chest felt eerily still against her cheek. She could tell he had no idea how he was supposed to react.
"Did you take a test?' He eventually asked.
"I took two."
He held her a little tighter and took another brutally long pause before he managed a slightly useless, "OK".
Perhaps he was a little baffled by her tears. After all, it was a well-known fact that Monica had always wanted a baby.
Just a few weeks ago, she had declared herself ready for single-motherhood, even going so far as to bring home a catalogue of potential anonymous sperm donors, so that she could make it happen.
Admittedly, that idea had really been a reaction to the failure of a promising long-term relationship, and she had ultimately decided not to go through with it, but she'd had genuine faith in her own capabilities as a parent.
She had felt so sure of herself.
She wished she could recapture a little of that mindset now.
She was going to have to, somehow.
"I'm assuming it's Richard's?" Chandler guessed, his voice low and gentle.
She swallowed hard and nodded slowly against his chest.
"Have you told him yet?"
At this point she leaned back and looked up into his face with wide, desperate eyes. "I literally just took the tests. I haven't told anybody, OK? I haven't even got it straight in my own head yet, so you have to promise me that you'll keep this to yourself, Chandler -"
He stemmed her anxious flow of words by placing both of his hands firmly on her shoulders and dipping his head so that their eyes were level.
"I'm not going to say anything." He assured her, compassionately.
She let her head flop forwards again and pressed her face back into his shoulder to calm her pitching breath.
"But you should call Richard." He advised, "I really think you'll feel a whole lot better when you do."
"I can't. Not yet. I'm dreading it." She grimaced, bunching up fistfuls of his shirt.
She could feel his chin dropping as he tried to reestablish eye contact, but she was determined not to look up.
"Why are you dreading it? It's Richard. Love of your life Richard. I know you guys broke up, but he's crazy about you, Mon. He's not going to want you to deal with this on your own."
"But this is exactly what he didn't want to happen, isn't it! He made that completely clear! He doesn't want a baby! That's the whole reason we broke up!"
"Well, yeah…But he's a good guy. He'll step up. You must know that?"
Monica's hands flew to her head, and she pulled free of his arms, pacing frustratedly towards the window.
"That's the point!" She cried, "That's why I ended things with him in the first place! I never wanted to do this with somebody who felt like they had to "step up". I didn't want it to happen like this, Chandler! I wanted somebody to want it like I did!"
She shook her head sadly then concluded, "I wanted… Hoyt…"
Chandler blinked back at her, completely bewildered. And quite reasonably so. She could tell he was racking his brains for some exotic ex-boyfriend of hers he might have forgotten about. But that wasn't what this was.
"Hoyt?" He queried after an exceedingly long pause.
"My imaginary husband. Joey made him up for me". She clarified with another pathetic shake of her head.
Chandler took his time to consider and process her words, and looked no less baffled when he had finally taken them in.
"Alright…"
When she had announced her decision to visit the sperm bank, her friends' universal doubt and disapproval had only made her want to dig her heels in even harder at first. It was funny really that Joey, the least judgemental of them all, had eventually been the one to make her see sense: A neutral conversation about potential sperm donors had led him to describe the kind of man he had always pictured Monica having children with; and in painting her a picture of domestic bliss with the unusually named but definitely dreamy "Hoyt", he had unwittingly opened her eyes to the fact that what she really craved was not just baby, but everything else that came with it. She wanted a family.
But as had already been ascertained, Richard most definitely did not.
Her chin sank to her chest and her brow crumpled a little bit more. A loud sniff and a sharp hitch of breath drew a fresh wave of sympathy from Chandler, and he dragged her back into another hug; a more all-enveloping one this time; one where he smoothed a hushing palm over her hair, and down her back, and rocked her a little in his arms. She didn't resist. It felt wonderful to be cossetted like that – just what she needed - and she tucked her head under his chin, nestled in close and took some deep, soothing breaths.
"So, what's he like? This.. Hoyt…" Chandler finally asked.
She thought she could hear the tiniest trace of a smile on his lips, and she smiled too, managing to derive a small shred of amusement from the mystification she knew he must be feeling.
"Tall and blond with a really great body, according to Joey."
She felt his chin bob in a nod and his lips twitched as he smirked against her hair.
"Sounds like quite a dish…" He conceded with a low whistle that made her chuckle. "But uh… at the risk of sounding incredibly stupid… explain to me why Joey's dreaming up hot husbands for you?"
"I don't know. I was a little surprised too." She confessed, swallowing hard then elaborating shakily, "But it's not about how hot he is. The important thing about Hoyt is, he wants the same things I want. If I told Hoyt I was having a baby, he'd be excited about it."
"Richard will be excited about it." Chandler told her, his voice low and confident, then becoming more insistent when she began to shake her head, "He will Monica! Of course he will! Just as soon as he takes it all in. You just need to talk to him."
"Look, I know that Richard will offer to "step up."" She said quietly. "I know he'll say and do all the right things. But I also know that however much he tries to hide it, he'll secretly feel like I've trapped him. He's going to have to dig really deep to make himself want this, and that makes me feel really guilty. And really, really sad."
She shook her head in despair and sank down onto the uncomfortable little bed, "It's just not how I imagined starting a family would feel."
The plastic covered mattress rustled as Chandler came to perch next to her and slid his arm solidly around her shoulder.
"Just because it hasn't happened exactly how you imagined it, doesn't mean it won't be great, you know? The way I see it, families are hardly ever perfect… look at Janice…" He began, his eyes misting over as he contemplated his girlfriend's strained efforts at co-parenting with her estranged husband. "Gary's a total moron, but she loves being a mom."
Monica's gaze dropped guiltily to her stupid bed. Chandler didn't know it, but it was Janice's mattress-salesman ex that had mistakenly had it delivered it here. Chandler was right: The guy really was a total moron.
"And then there's Ross," Chandler continued, "I mean I doubt he ever imagined fatherhood would take the shape it has for him, but Ben's his whole world, isn't he?"
The mention of her cherished nephew's name made a fresh crop of tears spring to Monica's eyes.
"And things will be so much more straightforward for you and Richard than it ever was for either of them. I mean, it's not like things ended acrimoniously between you two; nobody had an affair, and as far as I'm aware, neither of you are secretly gay…"
He smirked when Monica shot him a sarcastic glance but then concluded seriously, "You and Richard were still in love when you broke up. You'll make this work."
""Were" being the operative word" She noted with a somber shake of her head.
Chandler looked surprised by her expression of doubt and Monica could completely understand why. How many times had she bored them all to tears waxing lyrical about how much she adored her former lover? How many mawkish displays of grief had they all been subjected to in the wake of their breakup? Richard had been the greatest romance of her life; she had been utterly and unashamedly infatuated by him, and everybody knew it. But she had worked really hard to move beyond all of that.
Did she still love him? She honestly didn't know, but she did know her feelings for him had changed. She wouldn't say she'd fallen out of love with him exactly, but given the opportunity to reexamine their relationship from a distance, she had started to question their long-term compatibility, and viewed their bond through a slightly different lens these days. It was a struggle to get it all straight in her own head, let alone put it into words.
She pressed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets and gave another defeated sigh.
"I have no idea how Richard feels about me now, do I? Not really. For all I know, he might have met somebody else." Chandler expressed his doubt with a tutting sound but Monica continued to explain, "And I'm not even sure I'm in the same place anymore either. I mean, I worked so hard to get over him…"
"Oh, come on, you'll get under him again easy enough..." Chandler assured her, throwing her a wry smile, knowing that his turn of phrase would provoke a roll of her eyes. His smile grew bigger when she obliged, and he bumped her shoulder encouragingly. "You might have managed to convince yourself that you've moved on, but you don't just forget a love like that, Monica. When you see him again, and tell him about the baby, all of those feelings you felt before will come right back."
He gave the top of her arm a comforting rub and she let her head come to rest against his shoulder as they fell into a thoughtful but companionable silence. Maybe Chandler was right. Maybe she'd just spent so much time telling herself she was over Richard; she'd made herself believe it. Perhaps when she saw his face again and told him about their baby, all the love she had once felt would simply bubble right back to the surface.
Their baby.
God, she just couldn't believe it.
She looked up at Chandler with wistful eyes.
"Do you spend a lot of time with Janice's kid?" She suddenly asked, realizing that prior to this conversation she had never really heard him make reference to his girlfriend's daughter before.
It was funny to think of her boyish best friend in a step-fatherly role, but the more she pictured it, the more she thought it'd suit him. He would always deny it, but Chandler had a real way with kids; she'd watched his interactions with Ben; he was a natural. And not just at the fun stuff. He was patient too. And attentive, and kind.
An almost imperceptible shadow passed over Chandler's face. She couldn't quite tell if it was anxiety or sadness; he shook it off too fast.
"No, not really." He admitted. "Janice likes to keep our relationship separate from all of the family stuff…"
Monica's pensive nod only served to make him twitchier, and he added with a shrug and a laugh, "I mean, I can't say I blame her. I'm not exactly the most competent when it comes to kids, am I? Remember the whole "baby on the bus" incident? Would you let me take care of your kid after that?"
She returned a stare of soft scrutiny. He often used self-deprecation as a means of defense, and his careless attitude towards this particular issue did not fool Monica for a second.
"Of course I would." She told him sincerely, before being forced to correct herself with a nauseous sigh, "I mean, I will…"
Everything suddenly felt too big and intense, and now it was Monica's turn to try to diffuse it all by adding, "Just maybe not on public transport."
They both smiled, and pleased to see her looking less desolate, Chandler continued down a tentative path of positivity.
"God, I can't believe we're going to have a little mini-Monica in our midst..." He mused with a sweet, crooked smile.
Monica's eyes reached keenly for his. She was a million miles away from believing this was all going to be OK, but she would take any glimmers of hope or excitement she could.
"Imagine how cute she'll be!" He continued, squeezing her shoulder fondly, "And I'll bet she'll have the most efficiently organized toy box in all of New York."
The corners of Monica's lips began to pull upwards of their own free will.
"What makes you think it will be a girl?" She questioned curiously.
Chandler shrugged. "I dunno. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure a mini-Richard would be cute too…it's just that when I try to picture that, all I can see is the mustache…"
She coughed out a quick bark of a laugh and shook her head, letting herself collapse against his shoulder again.
"Hey! Does all of this mean you might consider keeping this bad boy?" Chandler asked eagerly, patting the plastic bodywork of the race car bed. "I'll bet Mini-Mon would love it!"
"Absolutely not." She told him adamantly, looking down at the unwanted furniture with weary eyes. "Ugh. You know, I thought I was going to have the best night sleep ever on my brand new fancy mattress tonight; and instead I'm going to be lying on the couch trying to figure out the best way to tell Richard that I'm about to destroy his retirement plans."
"You're not destroying anything." Chandler told her firmly, his gaze clutching hers as he faced her dead on. "As soon as he wraps his head around all of this, Richard is going to realize he's the luckiest guy in the world. Trust me."
As she stared back at him, an intense tide of overwhelming gratitude and affection surged through her chest, rendering her speechless and actually rather breathless too. She reached for his hand and gently squeezed his fingers.
"Monica?" The front door rattled and Joey's voice suddenly reverberated around the apartment.
"In here!" She called back, quickly retracting her hand from Chandler's in order to swipe the remnants of emotion from her cheeks.
Her lips parted in surprise and her breath caught in her throat when Chandler tenderly, and wholly unexpectedly framed her jaw with his hand. She stared back into his face wide-eyed, but eventually worked out that he was helpfully brushing away a rogue tear with the soft pad of his thumb. She flashed him a grateful smile.
"What are you guys doing in here?" Joey asked as he ambled through the door.
"Playing Formula 1". Chandler answered, without missing a beat. "She's Damon Hill, I'm Michael Schumacher."
Joey accepted this explanation without question and Monica half expected him to ask to join in.
"I was just gonna see if you wanted me to come down to the mattress store with you to sort out the mix up with the beds", he said, looking towards Monica, "But I guess we're keeping it?"
"No! We're not keeping it! " She told him quickly. "And yes, I would love it if you'd come to the store with me. Thank you. I'll go grab my coat."
She and Chandler both pushed up from the bed.
"Do you want me to come too?" He offered.
"No!" Joey and Monica's response was vociferous, unified and immediate. They had been trying to hide the nefarious origins of the race car bed from Chandler all day.
Monica stole a guilty glance in his direction and when she saw the sliver of hurt their refusal to include him had brought to his eyes, she simply couldn't bear it, and her subterfuge crumbled in an instant.
"You don't want to come, OK? I bought it from The Mattress King." She admitted with an ashamed pout.
Chandler's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "You bought a bed from Janice's pig of a husband?"
"Yes." Monica folded her arms across her chest and eyed him with a combination of remorse and defiance. "I really needed a new one and they had some incredible deals on! Pig or not, you can't argue with prices like that! And besides, Janice and I aren't exactly close, are we? It's not like I bought a bed from your ex-husband!"
"So, what are you saying? You don't feel any loyalty towards Janice?"
Monica scrunched up her nose and her lips moved, but she couldn't find any appropriate words. She didn't really mean to let her eyes flit towards Joey either, but the pull was magnetic; if anybody was going to empathize with her lack of loyalty to Chandler's annoying girlfriend, it would be him. The brief, conspiratorial flicker of the Italian's eyebrows confirmed it.
Chandler caught their shared glance and cast an outraged glare at each of them in turn.
"Look, I'm sorry, OK?" Monica said, holding up her hands and looking right into his eyes. "I shouldn't have brought a bed from him. It was a big mistake."
Glancing bitterly towards the race car, she added "Evidently..."
"Yeah, come on Chandler, don't be be too mad at her: I think we can all agree that karma already bit her in the ass..." Joey pointed out with a chuckle, before sauntering off towards the living room.
As he turned to follow, Chandler's expression was still staunchly disapproving, so Monica reached out to pause him, grazing his forearm with contrite fingertips. "I really am sorry."
"You're a big traitor, is what you are, Geller." He rebuked, but as their eyes met, a hint of a smirk danced across his face. He turned back towards her and leaned in close. "You're lucky you're with child, you know? Otherwise I'd make a huge dramatic scene about this. And I'd tell Janice."
She smirked back at him and as their sparkling gazes fused tight, a tingle of exhilaration shuddered down her spine. Probably caused by the phrase "with child".
She followed him out of the bedroom and her soft gaze tracked him through the kitchen where Joey was already hunched, neck deep in the fridge. She would have liked to have thanked Chandler for the comfort he had offered, and would have done so had they still been alone.
When he reached the front door, he paused and turned to look at her again, his expression more serious and solicitous this time. Bringing his right hand to his ear, he shaped his fingers so that they resembled a telephone receiver, then mouthed and mimed one final instructive plea:
"Call Richard."
By the following evening Monica was no further forward. It had been a busy day; panic-inducing at points, frustrating at others; and she felt every bit as overwhelmed by her situation as she had before.
Calling Richard had not gone to plan, but she had not had much time to dwell on it because she had been roped in to help Rachel take care of Ben for the afternoon.
Spending time with her nephew never failed to lift her spirits, but today the little boy had also served as a terrifying reminder of how unprepared she was for the magnitude of parenthood.
It had been quite a confidence boost at first: Rachel was far more inexperienced and skittish around children than she was, so Monica had enjoyed being the capable one; teaching her friend how to change diapers, prepare toddler safe food, and offer entertainment. But then she accidentally smacked Ben's head against a wooden beam during a game of "airplane", and in the blink of an eye, she had gone from feeling like New York's answer to Mary Poppins, to the most woefully incompetent mother-to-be the world had ever seen.
She had the apartment to herself this evening, so she had taken to the sofa, immersing herself in a cocoon of pillows, blankets and trashy television that was failing to provide anywhere near the level of comfort she wished it would.
She had envisaged a night of wallowing solitude, but that was cut short when Chandler appeared at the door clutching a tub of gourmet ice cream.
He looked ashen and lost, and her heart immediately panged for him. It might not have been been the greatest of days for her, but she knew for a fact that his had been even worse.
"Hey".
Peering at him over the back of the sofa, she whispered a soft greeting, and he replied by holding the ice cream weakly aloft.
He looked like a heartbroken teenage girl arriving at a sleepover, and Monica couldn't prevent her lips from curving in response. His masculine build and features were so often at odds with his sweet, gentle manner; it was a contrast she found achingly endearing.
"I heard you decided not to go to the movies either." He said glumly, "I thought you might like some company."
"Yeah, I couldn't face it." She replied, inviting him to join her by patting the spot next to her on the sofa, "I told Rachel I had a headache. Luckily, me, her and Ben spent most of the afternoon banging our heads against that beam over there, so it was quite a believable lie..."
When he eyed her strangely she flapped a dismissive hand and added, "Just a game that went wrong."
She watched as he headed into the kitchen to source a couple of spoons then told him sympathetically, "I'm really sorry about what happened with Janice."
When Joey had stormed up the The Mattress King's office, ready to challenge him about the race car bed yesterday, he had got a little more than he bargained for when he found Janice in a compromising position with her ex.
"Joey said you'd decided to end things with her..."
"Yeah." Chandler mumbled dully, lumbering towards her and collapsing in a morose heap at her side.
"Must have been a tough decision... " She observed, placing a worried hand on his knee.
He responded with nothing more than a shallow nod.
"I heard you singing Lionel Richie before..." She mentioned softly.
"I was just dueting with Phoebe..." He grumbled, firing her an embarrassed scowl then assuring her stoically, "I'll be fine. It was just a shock, that's all. I'll get over it. I mean, it's probably for the best anyway..."
Monica didn't say it out loud, but she privately agreed with that part. Breaking up with Janice was definitely the best thing for Chandler. She was devastated for him that he'd had to face the ignominy of discovering that his girlfriend had been rekindling her marriage behind his back, but in the long term, moving on from that relationship would be a positive thing; there was no way in the world Janice was right for him.
She doubted he was ready for that kind of talk yet though, and a more sensitively worded response was shaping on the tip of her tongue, but Chandler spoke first.
"It serves me right really. For trusting her and letting my guard down."
"Don't say that." Monica told him gently, trying to draw his gaze towards hers. "None of this is your fault."
But Chandler clearly wasn't in the mood for dissecting his own problems and after a quick shake of his head he quickly steered them towards her's instead.
"How was your day, anyway?" He asked, regarding her attentively. "Did you speak to Richard?"
Monica looked away, not wanting to see the hint of a scold she knew would appear immediately in his eyes when she responded with a negative.
"Monica!"
"I did try! He wasn't there!" She explained defensively, "His daughter picked up the phone. Turns out, she's keeping an eye on his apartment for six months, because Richard has gone to Africa."
Chandler's bottom lip dropped open, in much the same way Monica's had when Michelle had broke the news to her.
"What the hell is he doing in Africa?"
"He's volunteering for a charity." She told him with a long sigh. "He's traveling around performing cataract operations, treating river blindness… stuff like that. He started out in Rwanda, and apparently, he's on his way to Uganda now."
Something poignant stirred in her chest as she pictured Richard out there in the wider world, doing something so worthwhile. She wondered if that meant she did still love him? Or was it just an echo of her former love? It might even be plain and simple envy, that he had moved forwards in a way she had so far failed to. She really had no clue.
Michelle had told her all about Richard's adventures with a haughty combination of pride and blame; it was abundantly clear that she felt that her father's decision to move to another continent had been driven by the emotional disarray caused by his split from Monica, and when they had spoken this afternoon, she had seemed to derive a certain amount of pleasure from Monica's anguish at not being able to speak to him.
"Wow." Chandler exhaled, puffing out his cheeks as he levered the lid off his ice cream tub and handed her a spoon. "So, will she get him to call you?"
Monica shrugged, twirling the spoon between her fingers and watching with distracted eyes as Chandler scooped up a satisfyingly smooth ellipsoid of Cookies and Cream.
"She said she would. I told her it was important, but she had no idea when she'd next speak to him; it sounds like he's traveling around a lot and staying in remote places, so he isn't calling home all that often."
Chandler took a meditative pause, giving his mouthful of ice cream a chance to dissolve on his tongue.
"So, you just have to wait?"
"What else can I do?"
"Are you going to tell anybody else? You know.. about the..."
"No." She said with certainty. "Not yet. It just doesn't seem right. Richard's the father, so he has to be the first to know. Well, apart from you, obviously," she added, firing a rueful glance from beneath her lashes, "And my doctor. I'm going to call her tomorrow."
"I get why you don't want the whole world to know before Richard, but maybe you should think about telling Rachel at least?" Chandler suggested, "I mean, you two live together. And you're going to want somebody to go with you to medical appointments and stuff, aren't you?"
Monica's jaw twitched slightly as it dawned on her that the prospect of being her sole confidante in all of this was probably a daunting and dubious honor for poor Chandler. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and when Chandler's eyes widened she knew that he had mistaken her feelings of guilt for signs of offense.
"I mean, I can totally go with you.. " He stuttered, "If you want? It's not that I don't want to. I just thought you might feel more comfortable having Rachel there instead… You know… if they're probing you and stuff…"
Monica's head whipped around and her spoon took a stunned pause in the ice cream. "Probing me? Why would they probe me? Is that what happens?" She asked anxiously, wondering if this was some commonplace early pregnancy practice she was as yet unfamiliar with.
"I don't know! They probably won't! I have no idea about any of this stuff, do I!" He said, looking flustered, "That's why I suggested Rachel!"
Monica couldn't help but smirk when he got all wide-eyed and frantic like that.
"I doubt Rachel knows any more about any of this stuff than you or I know". She pointed out, "And anyway, I don't think I really need anybody to go with me to appointments." She decided thoughtfully. "I'd rather go alone. Especially if it's going to involve probes. So, please don't say anything to her, OK? Or anybody else."
"I already told you, I wouldn't." He promised, looking slightly aggrieved by the mere suggestion. "I'm an excellent secret keeper!"
Monica snickered and shot him a doubtful side-eyed glance. "Oh really? So, you didn't tell Phoebe about me and Fun Bobby having sex on the balcony?"
"Hey! She dragged that out of me!" He objected, "And this is a totally different situation. Of course, I'm not going to tell. You know you can trust me when it comes to important stuff."
The tender smile she returned assured him that yes, she did know.
She pulled her feet up by the ankles and shifted her body into a comfortable ball, then lifted up the corner of her blanket, coaxing Chandler to join her beneath it so they could both reach the ice cream without having to stretch. Obligingly, he scooted up so they were sitting hip to hip, and then instinctively circled her with a strong arm.
There was an unexpected edge of need to his embrace, and Monica supposed that after all that had happened with Janice today he was most likely in dire want of some closeness. As she edged her body even nearer to his, it didn't take long for her to realize how much she needed some too.
She uncoiled a little and let her knees fall into his lap, her cheek dropping to his shoulder. Chandler always gave good hugs and she suddenly felt better than she had all day, relaxing into him so there were no gaps between them; warm and melting, like the ice cream right at the edge of the tub.
She groaned as she exhaled, and once again Chandler misread her; this time mistaking her simple sigh of physical contentment for an outpouring of lingering despair.
"It's all going to be OK." He said with soft reassurance, "Richard will call, and you know exactly what he'll say: He's going to tell you that he still loves you, and that he'll be there to support you. And he'll mean every word."
Monica felt her brow furrow in response to his words, and she tried to force a small smile instead. She knew that what he was saying was true, but instead of making her feel better, for some reason the idea of trying to revive things with Richard just made her feel even more anxious and vulnerable. She didn't say a word. Just bit down on her lip.
"And Richard's not the only one, you know? We're all going to be there for you, every step of the way." Chandler added gently, his lips brushing against her hair. "And then, in a few months' time, you're going to have somebody in your life who you're going to love more than anybody else in the whole wide world. It'll be just like you always wanted."
A rush of exquisite warmth passed through her chest. She lifted her head to meet his eyes and they shared a meaningful smile.
"You're going to be the best mom ever." He told her, and then, in a moment of unexpected emotional spontaneity, he placed a soft palm on her flat belly.
His sensitive fingers splayed like a pianist's; three of them landing on top of her thin lilac vest top, but his ring finger and his pinkie inadvertently found a strip of bare skin where her top had ridden up from her waistband.
Their mutual shock was palpable.
Monica didn't particularly mind or anything; she was a tactile person and she and Chandler had always enjoyed a physically comfortable relationship; the fact that they were curled up like this in the first place was testament to that. But his hands were cold from the ice cream, and she simply hadn't expected to feel his fingertips on such a rarely stroked part of her, so her bodily response was more violent than she might have predicted.
His touch felt like electricity.
Her breath caught, her muscles clenched and her skin puckered.
Chandler flinched too, and it was instantly clear that he really hadn't intended to lay his hand on her like that.
They both froze, like rabbits caught in headlamps, neither one of them moving or breathing for what felt like an excruciating amount of time; their minds empty of anything but those brutally intimate points of lingering contact.
"Sorry." He eventually murmured, awkward and repentant, peeling his fingers away and staring down at his hand as if it was some kind of unpredictable alien creature over which he had no control.
Monica could tell he had no idea where to put it next and she suddenly felt scared that he might find an excuse to leave.
She really didn't want him to.
In fact, she suddenly realized this was the warmest and least empty her supposedly blooming body had felt since she took those tests yesterday.
She grabbed hold of his startled hand and found herself fighting a wholly inappropriate urge to place it right back on her belly, just to hammer home the point that she really hadn't minded it being there. But in the end, she just gave his rigid fingers a reassuring squeeze instead.
"It's OK", she told him with a breathy laugh.
He still looked a little shellshocked and likely to bolt, so she timidly admitted, "Please don't be sorry; this is exactly what I need, Chandler. OK? It feels really good to share all of this with somebody. It makes it feel real, you know? And more how I always imagined pregnancy to feel. Sitting here with you, eating ice cream, talking it all over… It makes everything seem better… I really appreciate it."
Comforted and quite moved by her gratitude, his chest decompressed and he returned a shy smile.
"Well, I'm here for you whenever you need somebody to share it all with." He promised, "You deserve to enjoy every moment of being pregnant. I'm just sorry I'm not the father."
Both sets of eyes widened and locked fast and Chandler fell over himself to offer swift clarification to his misspoken sentiment, words tumbling on top of words as he sought to make himself understood.
"What I mean is; I'm sorry I'm not Richard! I mean, not that I want to be him, I'm just sorry for you, that's all! That I'm here and not him. You know? Like it would be nicer for you, if Richard was here to share it all with you right now, instead of me."
His frantic ramble was quite unnecessary; Monica had already figured out what he meant; but his mortification made her grin, and when Chandler saw how unconcerned and amused she was, he relaxed a bit too, even managing to crack a relieved smirk of his own.
"Oh! Look! Wheel of Fortune!" He pointed towards the TV, desperate to divert her attention away from his embarrassment.
Still smiling, Monica slotted herself comfortably beneath his arm again, fussing about with their blanket, then letting her eyes drift closed for a moment as she gave another deep sigh.
"I'm glad you're here." She murmured, her words completely sincere, but so soft she doubted he even heard them over the drone of the TV.