My hand rests on the doorknob, but I pause, reluctant to push into the room and disturb the moment. Instead, I lean against the doorframe and watch through the tiny window…observing.

My son is an absolute natural at fatherhood. I don't know that I ever expected that.

I teased him at his wedding, telling him that I thought his father and I had messed him up so badly that he'd never have a normal life. Unfortunately, it wasn't all teasing. Charles and I really did a number on our poor son, and Chandler spent so many years being hurt and angry and sort of lost, and he tried so hard to keep everyone away, pushing everyone off with sarcasm and jokes…I worried about him.

I worried about him a lot. Both of us did, but probably not when he needed us to. When Chandler was little and his world came crashing down around him, well, my world was crashing, too, and unfortunately, I let myself get caught up in my own hurt and confusion. I assumed that because he said that he was all right, and that because his grades never suffered and that because he was never in trouble that he really was coping with his father coming out very well. I mean, kids are resilient—they can handle pretty much anything.

So, instead of really focusing on my son, instead of taking the time to talk to him on a regular basis to find out if he was actually all right, I took it on faith that he was fine. I let myself believe he wasn't struggling. It wasn't until he was nearly headed off to college that I realized he'd never had any real relationships. For a while, I wondered if maybe he was gay, too, but I only ever found girly magazines hidden in his room. But I suppose that's when it really dawned on me that my son had been struggling with the divorce, and his father, and most likely even me, for years without saying anything. I always thought Charles was being a pain in the ass and trying to make some sort of statement, but to my teenage son, having his father show up to school functions in drag couldn't have been easy. Kids are horrible to each other at the best of times, but God forbid someone have a less than conventional life. I'm sure Chandler was fair game to his classmates.

It kills me now to think about, and in more than just the my-child-was-teased-mercilessly sort of way, but in that I never took the time to pay attention to my kid being in that sort of pain, and that I never took the time to sit down and make him talk to me, or to have the sort of relationship where he felt like he could call me up and complain about life.

I love Chandler—we both love him—but I don't know that either of us were very good at showing him that. Both Charles and I wound up being very selfish when it came to our divorce and how it affected us, and I know that I'll never be able to make that up to my son.

But somehow, miraculously, he's stopped being angry about it all and—maybe even more miraculously—he's managed to find happiness. I talk to him all the time now, and visit him as often as I can, making sure that I have frequent stops on my book tours near him and his family.

I hate to say that he has it all now, because that feels like I'm jinxing it, but he really does seem to have everything anyone could possibly want. He has Monica, who wound up being absolutely perfect for him. I think she's the one who brought him to life.

I'll never forget the first time I had dinner with the two of them; it wasn't long after they'd moved in together, and to be honest, I was still reeling from the thought of my poor, broken child voluntarily living with a woman. It seemed even stranger to find out that it was Ross's little sister. He'd told me some time before that he and Monica were seeing each other—truthfully, I found it to be adorable. What's cuter than falling in love with your best friend's little sister?—but I don't know that I gave it much more thought, at least not seriously, until he told me about their new living situation. He could have knocked me over with a feather. The moment I saw them smiling at each other, though…I couldn't have written it better. In fact, I don't know that I could have written it at all. What they have is better than any story I could possible create, but that doesn't stop me from trying like hell to capture just a little bit of it in some of the books I write. But the closeness they already had from years of friendship made them fit together better than I could have imagined. They constantly touched each other—a hand on a shoulder, bumping knees, playing with her hair, fixing his collar—not in a possessive way, but more in a subconscious way. Being close to each other was already ingrained and I knew then that if Chandler were to get married, it'd be to Monica.

She's so good for him, though. She balances him out and keeps him grounded. By sheer virtue of her personality and how much he loves her, Chandler was the one to make all of their big steps. I suppose one of the best things about dating someone who has known you for years is that they understand your doubts and fears. She never pushed him for anything—he told me that himself. She never pushed for marriage or grand gestures. As far as I could tell, she just wanted him, and that was enough for Chandler. He fell in love and he wanted all of the things he thought were too scary and he grabbed at his future with both hands.

I think he's good for Monica, too, though. I met her a few times long before she started dating my son, and she was always very neurotic and high strung, very precise, and the sort that would never color outside the lines. She's different now, though. More relaxed and easy-going, and able to laugh at herself and not take the world so seriously.

And together, they have the most spectacular children. I love them all so much, it's unreal. I always found the prospect of becoming a grandmother absolutely horrifying—I thought it would make me old and matronly. I thought it would mean that I was officially done. Until I met Jack and Erica. The babies that Chandler and Monica fought so hard for, the two absolute rays of sunshine, and the most beautiful little people I could ever hope to meet.

It turns out that being a grandmother suits me. I'll happily whip out the endless amounts of pictures I have of my grandchildren the moment I hear the topic come up, eager to show the world just how much more amazing mine are than anyone else's. I love talking about them, and I have for hours at a stretch. Just after little William was born, I wound up on Letterman to promote my latest book but it became mostly about the babies, their pictures flashing on the screen to the "oohs" and "awws" of the entire audience. I've certainly started attracting a whole new set of readers, too, or at least a new set willing to admit they like to read my smut. I spend much more time at signings now talking to other women about their grandchildren than I ever could have imagined.

The best part is seeing Chandler being so happy about it all. He adores his children, and he's such a good father. For so long, I was afraid that he'd let our mistakes hold him back and stop him from experiencing all the good things in life. To watch him with his family now, though, no one would ever know that he used to doubt that this was the life for him.

He holds his kids with such ease. He never flinches at a dirty diaper or a screaming baby. He kisses booboos and brushes hair and would walk through fire for them if he needed to.

My breath catches in my throat a little as I watch him with his family, a tear prickling at the corner of my eye. He would give up his life for his wife and children in an instant if he had to—it's written all over his face. Those people in that room mean more to him than anything, and it's wonderfully heartbreaking to see. It's not that he's stepped up to the responsibility—it's that he's embraced it, holding onto it tightly, eager and happy to wear the mantle of "father."

I go to turn the knob again, but still I hesitate. I never get unguarded moments like this where I can just watch the next generation of the Bing family in action. From this angle, I can see Monica reclined in her bed, Jack, Erica, and William cuddled around her—she looks exhausted, a little pale, but happy. The kids seem to be torn between vying for her attention, and craning their necks to see what's in their father's arms.

I feel my cheeks ache as I shift my eyes back to my son, who gazes down at the little bundle in his arms with such love and wonder. Once upon a time, hospitals would wrap baby boys in blue and baby girls in pink, but now it's a nondescript white blanket with blue and pink stripes; I can't even speculate about my new grandchild. All I do know is that it's perfect. I don't have to see it to know that much, though.

Finally, I tap gently on the door, pushing it open when I see Chandler grin up at me. "Hi," I say quietly. "Sorry—I got here as fast as I could."

Before Chandler or Monica can answer, Erica pops up to her knees, exclaiming, "Hi, Grandma!"

Chandler nods his head and I go to greet my three oldest grandchildren. I grab Erica's cheeks, giving her a kiss. "Hello, sweetheart."

Jack bounces up and down, waiting for me to acknowledge him. "Hi, Grandma!"

"Hello, darling boy," I answer, giving him a hug and a kiss.

William stands up, calling out, "Grandma," his arms out to me, and I scoop him up, kissing his cheek.

"Hello, William. How are you?"

"I'm Liam, Grandma," he explains to me patiently, and I look over to Monica, who rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"You're never gonna grow out of that, are you?" I ask him, and he smiles at me, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Nope."

I lean over and kiss Monica's cheek, smoothing her hair back from her face. "I was in Chicago when Chandler called," I explain, bopping William up and down on my hip. "I got on the first plane I could, but I thought I'd never get here."

"You're here now, that's all that matters, Mom," Chandler tells me, his eyes never leaving the baby in his arms.

"And it's not your fault she decided to come early," Monica adds. "It's not like you could postpone your life for my entire last trimester."

"She?" I ask, that pronoun being the only word that stuck with me. "It's a girl?"

Chandler grins at me again, broader this time, and he steps over to me. I give William another kiss and carefully place him on the bed next to his mother. "It's a girl," he confirms, placing her into my waiting arms, and I can't help but gasp.

"Oh, my God, she's gorgeous," I whisper.

Chandler gently strokes her tiny head, looking at his new daughter rapturously. "She is."

"Geez, Monica, she looks just like you."

She gives me a lopsided grin. "It's only fair, considering William is your son's doppelganger. Since I'm the one who had to carry her around while she pummeled my insides and made me reject nearly every piece of food that came within a twelve-foot radius for almost seven months, and because Jack and Erica behave more like their father every day, I should get one that looks like me."

I shift the baby in my arms gently, completely mesmerized. Considering she's only a few hours old, she doesn't look all red and wrinkled like most babies. She looks like a very miniature person, all of her features perfect. Her long eyelashes nearly hit her cheeks, light freckles dot her nose. Soft, dark hair covers her tiny head. She makes a soft noise suddenly, her eyes fluttering open to reveal a truly startling shade of blue, one that she only could have gotten from my son and daughter-in-law. "Hello, gorgeous," I whisper as her tiny arm flails about. "I'm your grandma." I smile up at Chandler, his own eyes bright with unshed tears. "She's perfect."

"Both of my girls are," he answers, looking over at Erica, who grins at him in response. "Aren't you, little butt?"

"Practically perfect in every way," she answers, batting her eyes at me just a little, and even though I know she's a ham, I can't help but melt just a little.

"Have you been watching 'Mary Poppins'?" I ask, swaying the baby gently back and forth.

"A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!" Jack chimes in, bouncing up and down just a little, William moving with him.

"My boys are pretty perfect, too," Monica answers, smiling at them fondly before stifling a yawn a moment later.

"I'm sorry," I say, leaning down to kiss the baby's forehead. "I should let you get some rest."

She just waves her hand at me dismissively. "I'm a mother of four; I'm always tired. She's going to need to eat soon, too."

Reluctantly, I pass the baby off to Monica, who cradles her protectively in her arms. Feeling the need to keep my family close, I wrap my arms around Chandler's waist, and he settles against me comfortably. The three older kids crowd around the baby, their tiny hands gently stroking the newborn's arms. "So, what do you think of your new sister?" I ask, amazed that they're all so fascinated by her.

"She's so teeny," Jack answers, sparing a glance at me before focusing on his littlest sibling, and she really is. She's only a few weeks early, but she's just a little pipsqueak of a thing. Maybe she'll always be small, though.

"She's quiet," William whispers.

"She hardly made a sound after she was born," Chandler tells me. "Even though it was her idea to come early, she seemed very offended to be pushed out of her little sensory deprivation tank, but after that, she settled down and hasn't had much to say."

"I'm sure that'll change before long," Monica says, running a finger gently down the baby's nose. "She'll have to be loud to be heard over the rest of the crew."

"Guys, I think your mommy just called you loud," I say teasingly, but Erica looks unimpressed.

"I am loud," she tells me.

"She is," Jack confirms, nodding his head vigorously, and Chandler starts clearing his throat, trying to cover a laugh.

"What about you, Erica? What's the verdict on your new sister?"

"I love her," she answers. "She's gonna play with me."

"I think Erica's excited that she won't be the only girl anymore," Monica says. "Aren't you, Eri?"

She smiles up at her mother then scoots in close to her side, resting her head on Monica's arm. "Twinkle, twinkle little star," she sings softly to her sister. "How I wonder what you are."

The boys move closer, flanking themselves around their mother and sisters, their voices joining in the gentle chorus. "Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are."

Without a word, Chandler hands me a tissue, and I'm not at all surprised to find that the three of them singing to their newborn sister has moved me to tears. Monica's cheeks are wet, too, even as she grins from ear to ear. "They're all perfect," I say softly.

"They're so much more than perfect," Chandler tells me, and the three older ones pay no attention to the adults in the room as they all watch the baby, almost as if they're guarding her, making sure that no harm will come to her.

I know I should go—despite what she says, I know Monica has to be exhausted, and I'm sure they want to spend a little more time together before the doctors kick out Chandler and the kids—but it's so hard to pull myself away, even though I know I'll see them again in a few hours. Hell, I'll even be at their house tonight to tuck the kids into bed. But still, I don't want to miss a single moment.

"What's her name?" I ask suddenly, amazed to realize that I haven't even thought of that until now. But after several hours of panic after Chandler called to let me know that the baby was coming early, trying to book a last minute flight, pacing in an airport for a few hours as I waited for my plane, clutching my armrests as what should have been maybe an hour flight took more than three hours after my layover in Atlanta, then tiptoeing past the waiting room full of friends and family, all anxious for another glimpse of the baby, her name has been the last thing on my mind. That she's healthy has been much more important. But now…I want to know who she is. "So?" I ask.

Chandler grins at me.

*A/N...yeah, I know. I'm kind of an ass. For whatever reason, not handing out this kid's name is bringing me immense amounts of joy. I also realize that I'm just a dirty liar and I should basically just stop putting "complete" on my stories if I'm going to randomly add chapters to stuff I wrote six or seven months ago. Dirty, dirty, liar.

And, holy moly, but I've gotten a bunch of new people adding me and my stuff to their favorites/alerts all of a sudden! Welcome, friends :) Feel free to say "hello!"