After All This Time

Chapter 7

Chandler's POV

When I got home after getting stopped by a cop and getting let off with a warning, I walked in the door, slamming it.

I walked into the living room to see Monica reading her book.

She looked in my direction, took off her reading glasses, put on her regular ones (she has pretty bad vision), and bolted towards me, an incredibly worried look on her face.

"Chandler!" she exclaimed. "What happened?! Are you okay? Is Katelyn okay?"

"Whoa, whoa, Monica," I said, grabbing her forearms. "Slow down. What do you mean am I okay?"

Seeing that I wasn't hurt, she took a deep breath. "You said the two of you would be home between 8 and 8:30. Do you know what time it is?"

I shook my head.

"It's 11:00!" she informed.

"Don't worry," I said. "Nothing happened. I'm still your fiancé." I went over and sat in one of the armchairs.

She turned around to face me, holding a reproachful look. "I know you didn't do that with Katelyn. I mean, come on, Chan, really? I just wanna know what happened."

She came over and sat next to me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.

I didn't want to tell her we had fought. "We saw a car accident on the side of the road when we were driving back and we decided to get out and help them."

I knew by Monica's facial expressions that she didn't believe me. "Okay," she said. "Now how about you tell me the truth."

I sighed. I swear she had a lie detector in her brain. "Fine," I said defeatedly. "Katelyn and I had a fight."

Monica raised her eyebrows. "Why?" she asked.

I recounted the story, making sure to include every detail.

She held a poker face the entire time. When I was done, she simply sat there with her unreadable expression for a few moments before whacking me upside the head.

I jerked forward and rubbed the back of my skull.

My eyes followed her as she stood up, running her hand through her shiny brunette hair.

"What was that for?!" I asked loudly.

She turned around to face me. "You're such an idiot!" she scolded. "The poor girl asks you a simple question and you blow up!"

"She hit one of my sore spots!" I defended.

"Yeah," she said, chuckling. "And I'm pretty sure you hit one of hers by not talking to her for 6 years."

I opened my mouth to shoot back, but nothing came out.

"What is her room number?" she asked, still obviously angry.

"76," I answered in the same tone. "Why?"

"I'm gonna go talk to the poor girl," she said, taking her coat off of its hook. "See you tomorrow."

"Fine!" I yelled as she walked out the door.

I groaned in frustration, quickly got ready, threw myself down on our bed, and immediately fell asleep.