Kids, falling in love isn't one big moment.
It's a lot of small ones that sneak up on you while you're busy pretending you're fine.
And sometimes, the scariest part isn't the first kiss.
It's everything that comes after.
Secrets, Suiting Up, and Bad Timing
Here's the thing about your late twenties: people think excitement means big, dramatic nights.
But honestly?
Sometimes the most dangerous sentence you can say is:
> "Let's just have a quiet night in."
Because very quietly, things change.
---
It had been a month since the wedding.
A month since the terrace.
A month since the drumroll and the kiss and the "we're not going to find each other" rule I immediately broke.
Kids, I did what any reasonable architect in love with an impossible story would do:
I hunted.
I called Claudia.
I called the hotel.
I asked the caterer.
I followed breadcrumbs made of invoices and buttercream until I ended up in front of a small, warm-looking bakery on a side street in the Village.
"Bonjour, Patisserie," the sign said.
I stepped inside, totally rehearsed.
I lasted exactly three seconds before I forgot my entire speech.
Because there she was, behind the counter, piping frosting onto cupcakes like it was a form of prayer.
She looked up.
Our eyes met.
She sighed.
"You broke the rule," she said.
"Yeah," I said. "But I brought coffee."
She tried not to smile.
She failed.
And just like that, kids, your Uncle Ted had a girlfriend.
---
Flash forward.
One month later.
Late January, early February, the time of year when New York is gray slush and lost gloves.
I was at Victoria's bakery, leaning on the counter like I owned the place, watching her work.
"Okay," I said. "Explain this again."
"It's not complicated," she said, not looking up from her piping bag. "This batch is going to a gender reveal party, this tray is for an anniversary, this order is for a guy who's trying to apologize for something but won't say what."
"And you can tell all that… from the cupcakes?" I asked.
She pointed with her elbow.
"These have blue and pink swirl frosting," she said. "These have '9 Years' written on them. These have 'I'm sorry' spelled out in buttercream."
"Seems on the nose," I said.
"You'd be surprised," she replied. "Most emotional crises can be solved with sugar and sincerity."
"And what's this one for?" I asked, nodding at a box of simple chocolate cupcakes with neat white swirls.
She paused.
"That," she said, "is for a guy who wants tonight to be perfect."
I blinked.
"Oh," I said. "Right. Him. He sounds… emotionally mature."
"Debatable," she said. "But he is very cute and occasionally bearable."
I smiled.
Tonight was our… milestone.
We'd been pacing ourselves—dates, late-night talks, kisses, stolen time in stairwells and subways and her tiny apartment that smelled like flour and coffee.
But tonight?
Tonight we were finally going to sleep together.
The plan:
She'd close early.
I'd bring wine and cupcakes.
We'd spend the night at my place.
Normal, adult, totally chill.
Nothing terrifying about that.
At all.
"Hey." Her voice pulled me back.
"You okay?" she asked, studying me. "You're doing the Mosby Squint."
"I don't have a squint," I protested.
"You do," she said. "It's your 'I've imagined this night 400 different ways and now I'm scared it won't live up to the montage in my head' face."
"That's… specific," I said.
"Accurate, though," she replied.
I sighed.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked.
She put down the piping bag, came around the counter, and slid her arms around my waist.
"Ted," she said gently, "we're not filming a movie tonight. We're hanging out. In a bed. Like adults. Who like each other. That's it."
"That's a pretty big 'it'," I said.
"Yeah," she said. "But it's our 'it.' We don't have to get it 'right.' We just have to be honest. And maybe not knock over my cupcakes in the process."
"No promises," I said.
She kissed me.
"For the record," she murmured, "I'm nervous too."
"You are?" I asked, surprised.
"Of course," she said. "I like you, Ted. Which means if this is really bad, I'll have to move to a different country and change my name."
"You already did the country move," I pointed out. "Germany is—"
She thumped my chest lightly.
"Don't," she said. "We're not talking about that yet."
Right.
Germany was a shadow on the wall we were both pretending not to see.
We'd made a deal: enjoy what we have now, deal with later… later.
Spoiler: later never listens.
But that night, I kissed her forehead and tried very hard to stay in the moment.
"We still on for seven?" I asked.
"Bakery closes at six," she said. "I'll go home, shower off the frosting, find my best 'I've done this before but also this matters' outfit, and meet you at your place."
I grinned.
"Can't wait," I said.
She smirked.
"You really can't," she said. "You already texted me the bed emoji today. Twice."
"That was a pillow," I protested.
"Sure, Mosby," she said. "See you at seven."
---
Back at the apartment, things were… different.
Marshall and Lily's stuff was half-packed.
Boxes labeled "Our Crap" sat stacked against the wall.
The swords were gone from over the piano.
All reminders that soon, this wouldn't be my place anymore.
It would be theirs.
But for now, it was still home.
Marshall burst out of his room in sweatpants and a T-shirt, holding a bag of chips.
"There he is!" he said. "Our brave little heartbreak soldier."
I blinked.
"What?" I asked.
He slung an arm around me.
"Look, man," he said. "We know tomorrow is the big 'one month since you got left at the wedding' mark, and that sucks. So we decided to do something we never do."
"We cancelled our anniversary plans," Lily announced, emerging from the kitchen in pajama pants and a cardigan, holding a bowl of popcorn. "So we can spend the night with you."
"My… what?" I said.
"Our ninth anniversary," she said. "Nine years since our first date. We were going to go to a nice restaurant, maybe take a carriage ride through the park, then come home and be gross."
"Very gross," Marshall added.
"But then," Lily continued, "we thought, 'What kind of friends would we be if we went out and had romantic fun while Ted was sad and alone?' So we're staying in. With you. Board games. Movie marathon. Emotional support carbs."
She shook the bowl.
Popcorn rustled ominously.
My brain short-circuited.
"Oh," I said. "Wow. That's… that's really sweet."
"It's not sweet, it's necessary," Marshall said. "You need us, buddy. We know you miss her."
"Miss who?" I asked, stalling.
"Victoria," Lily said gently. "It's okay to say her name."
I glanced at Nox's bedroom door.
It was half-open.
He'd been crashing here more again lately—half to help me through the moving-out transition, half because he liked being in a place where the walls didn't cost more than some countries' GDP.
He stepped out, coffee cup in hand, wearing sweatpants and a Nyx Co hoodie, hair tied up lazily.
"What's this?" he asked.
"We cancelled our anniversary plans to keep Ted company," Lily said proudly.
"So we can cheer him up," Marshall added. "And make sure he doesn't spiral about that wedding girl."
Nox looked at them, then at me.
One eyebrow climbed.
"Ah," he said. "So it's a… pity party. With snacks."
"It's a support night," Lily corrected.
Nox took a sip of his coffee.
"Ted," he said slowly, "anything you want to… share?"
I considered lying.
Then I remembered the last time I didn't tell people something and ended up sword-fighting down a staircase.
"Actually," I said, "I already have plans tonight."
Three heads snapped toward me.
"You do?" Lily asked.
"Like… plans-plans?" Marshall added.
"Yes," I said. "I… have a date."
Lily squealed.
"A date?" she said. "With who?"
My mouth opened.
Nox made a tiny "don't you dare" face behind them.
"With… someone," I said.
"Someone?" Marshall repeated. "Is she hot? Is she nice? Is she… not Robin?"
"Hey," I said instinctively.
"I'm just saying," he said. "You have a type. We worry."
"She's great," I said. "And… it's kinda early, so I didn't want to make a big deal out of it yet."
"How early?" Lily asked.
"A month," I said.
"A month?" she shrieked. "TED! That's a big deal!"
"I'm proud," Marshall said, eyes misting. "Our boy's back out there."
"So we'll just celebrate our anniversary another night," Lily said, immediately pivoting. "You go do your date. Be romantic. Use protection. Don't say 'I love you.'"
"Not in that order," Marshall added.
Nox set his cup down.
"Quick logistical note," he said. "If you two are postponing 'romantic night of disgusting married stuff' for him, and he's not going to be here… why not just go do your original plan?"
They looked at each other.
Then at me.
"Oh my God," Lily said. "He's right."
Marshall's face lit up.
"He's so right," he agreed. "We can have it all."
"The universe wants us to celebrate our love," Lily said. "We almost ignored it."
"This is why you keep the genius Mosby around," Nox said.
"Hey," I said.
"Other one," he clarified. "The rich one."
I rolled my eyes.
"So we're good?" I asked. "No hurt feelings if I'm gone tonight?"
"Are you kidding?" Lily said. "Go. Date. Be adventurous. We'll be out being disgustingly cute and doing things the network won't show."
"We'll be home late," Marshall added. "You guys have the place to yourselves."
The significance of that hit me a beat later.
Victoria.
My place.
Empty.
Private.
"Oh," I said. "Right. Yeah. That's… that's perfect."
"Text us if you need a pep talk," Lily said.
"Or an alibi," Nox added.
"Why would he need an alibi?" Marshall asked.
"Just covering our bases," Nox said.
---
Later that afternoon, we were at MacLaren's.
Me. Nox. Barney. Robin.
Barney was mid-rant.
"And I'm telling you," he said, "there is no better night for a bro than running wing with someone attractive enough to deflect suspicion but tough enough to handle a cigar bar."
He pointed at Robin.
"You," he declared, "are that bro."
Robin downed the rest of her beer.
"You're insane," she said. "Also, I have a date tonight."
"You had a date tonight," he corrected. "Which he cancelled."
Her jaw clenched.
"He had a work emergency," she said.
"Did he call?" Barney asked.
"…no," she admitted.
"Did he send flowers?" he pressed.
"No," she said.
"Did he at least send a carrier pigeon with a heartfelt note?" he asked.
"Those are outlawed," she said. "Because of… droppings."
"Exactly," Barney said. "This man is not committed to your happiness. Ditch him. Come out with me. Laser tag. Cigars. High-fiving over the broken dreams of Wall Street guys. It'll be awesome."
She considered.
"I'm not going on a date with you," she said.
"Good," he replied. "I'm not asking you on a date. I'm asking you on a bro night. Strictly platonic. Zero romance. Maximum risk of getting kicked out for smoking where we shouldn't."
"Tempting," she said. "But I kind of feel like staying in and being depressed."
"Wrong," he said. "You know who stays in and is depressed?"
He jerked a thumb at me.
"Heartbreak Ted," he said. "He and I used to run the town, and now he's one scented candle away from a bubble bath."
"I am not heartbreak anything," I said. "And I own exactly zero scented candles."
"That's how it starts," Barney said. "First you're like, 'It's just regular soap.' Next thing you know, you're at Bed Bath & Beyond comparing loofahs."
Nox snorted into his drink.
"Barney," Robin said, "some people actually like staying home. It doesn't mean they're broken."
"Thank you," I said.
"But not you," she added. "You like staying home because you're afraid if you go out you'll accidentally fall in love with someone."
"I— that's… not entirely wrong," I admitted.
Nox clapped slowly.
"Self-awareness: unlocked," he said.
"Look," Barney said, leaning forward. "Ted's not coming because he's in mourning over Germany Cake Girl. Which is tragic and boring. But you? You're free. Untethered. And, most importantly, mad at a man. That's the perfect emotional state for laser tag."
Robin laughed despite herself.
"I do like shooting things," she said.
"There it is," Barney said. "Suit up."
She hesitated.
"Fine," she said. "Laser tag. One round. Then cigars. No asking me about my feelings."
"I would never," he said solemnly.
He absolutely would.
---
Nox turned to me once they'd left to go change.
"You told Robin?" he asked quietly.
"Told her what?" I asked.
"That you found Victoria," he said. "And that you two are… a thing now."
I stared at my beer.
"Not yet," I said. "It hasn't… come up naturally."
"You literally almost destroyed a wedding over her," he said. "You think 'natural timing' is going to swoop in and help?"
"It's complicated," I said. "Robin had front row seats to that whole wedding disaster. She knows I was wrecked. Then I found Victoria, but it felt… fragile at first. Like if I said it out loud, it would break. And then Germany and…"
"And you're scared," he finished. "That telling Robin you're happy with someone else will close some imaginary door in your head."
I didn't answer.
"Newsflash," he said. "Door's already complicated. Being honest about your life won't make it worse."
I sighed.
"I'll tell them," I said. "Soon. After tonight."
"Tonight being…?" he asked.
I felt my ears heat.
"Tonight is… milestone night," I said.
It took him half a second.
"Oh," he said. "That night."
"Yeah," I said.
"You nervous?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
He smirked.
"Don't be," he said. "You're good at overthinking. You're also good at being gentle and listening. That's ninety percent of the job. The rest is… cardio."
I groaned.
"Thank you for that image," I said. "Really needed that."
"Relax," he said. "You like each other. You communicate. You're not drunk. You've both seen each other eat messy food. It's going to be fine."
I nodded.
"Yeah," I said. "Okay."
He raised his glass.
"To adult decisions," he said.
"To not freaking out," I said.
We clinked.
---
That evening, the apartment was… quiet.
Marshall and Lily had left in a flurry of scarves and anniversary energy, promising not to come home until late.
Nox was at Bryce's place for the night, allegedly "helping her with script work," which we all knew was a euphemism for "cuddling and roasting directors."
I lit a few… regular candles. For ambience.
Put on some music.
Cleaned.
Changed my shirt three times, landed on a simple button-down and jeans like I hadn't overthought it at all.
At 7:10, there was a knock.
I opened the door.
And there she was.
Victoria.
Hair down in soft waves. Simple dress. That nervous half-smile that matched mine.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, holding up a bag. "Decided to bring emergency cupcakes. For… morale."
"Morale is very important," I said. "Come in."
She stepped inside, looking around.
"This is it, huh?" she said. "The famous Mosby-Eriksen love nest."
"Soon to be the Eriksen-Only love nest," I said. "I'm being evicted by matrimony."
She smiled.
"Still," she said, "tonight it's yours."
She set her bag down, walked over to the couch.
"Wow," she said. "You… cleaned."
"Is it that obvious?" I asked.
She lifted a pillow.
"Ted, there is not a single chip crumb fossil," she said. "This is a crime scene."
"I wanted it to feel… nice," I said.
"It does," she said.
We stood there.
Looking at each other.
Silence stretched.
"So," I said. "Do you want to… watch a movie first? Or talk? Or just—"
She stepped closer, slid her hands up over my shoulders, and kissed me.
"Let's start here," she murmured. "We can overthink the rest later."
I relaxed into it.
Kissing her never felt like work. It felt… easy.
Warm.
Anchor and lift all at once.
We stumbled back toward the couch, laughing as we bumped into the coffee table.
At some point, one of us said, "Bedroom?"
We headed that way.
Then she stopped.
"Bathroom first," she said. "I've been knee-deep in sugar all day and I refuse to smell like frosting for this."
"I like frosting," I said.
"You'll like it more later," she replied, kissing my cheek. "Where is it?"
"Down the hall," I said. "First door on the left."
She grabbed her overnight bag.
"You sure your roommates are out?" she asked. "I don't want to accidentally scar anyone."
"They're gone for the night," I assured her. "Anniversary. Carriage ride. Very gross."
"And Nox?" she asked.
"At Bryce's," I said. "Trust me. We have the place to ourselves."
She nodded.
"Okay," she said. "Give me… five minutes."
She disappeared down the hall, door clicking shut.
I stood there.
In the suddenly quiet living room.
Heart pounding.
Kids, if your heart doesn't pound a little before something that matters, check your pulse.
I took a breath.
Then another.
"Okay," I muttered to myself. "You've got this. You are calm. You are mature. You are not going to say anything weird like 'welcome to my bed.'"
I looked up.
And froze.
Because right then, the front door opened.
Marshall and Lily burst in.
In pajamas.
Arms full of snacks.
"We changed our minds!" Lily called. "We're staying in for real, just us and—"
She stopped dead.
We stared at each other.
"Oh no," I whispered.
"Oh my God," Lily said.
"TED," Marshall blurted. "You're… home?"
"And dressed," Lily added, eyes widening. "And there are candles."
"And music," Marshall said.
"And you're alone," Lily said slowly. "Or… are you?"
From down the hall, the bathroom door opened.
"Ted?" Victoria called. "Do you have any—"
She stepped into the hallway, saw them, and stopped.
"—towels," she finished weakly.
We all froze.
Future Me sighed.
Kids, this is why you always text your roommates.
Because if you don't?
Your big romantic night turns into a hostage situation with throw pillows.
And that… is where things really started to go off the rails.
Kids, one day you'll learn: the universe has incredible timing.
Not good timing.
Incredible.
As in, "I cannot believe you did that to me right now" timing.
We all stared at each other.
Me, in my carefully chosen "I didn't overthink this" date shirt.
Marshall and Lily, in full pajama comfort mode with snacks.
Victoria, standing in the hall holding a towel and zero plausible deniability.
"Oh my God," Lily breathed. "We walked in on your sex night."
"Babe," Marshall said, eyes huge, "this is historic."
Victoria looked at me.
"You said you had the place to yourselves," she whispered.
"I did," I insisted. "Fifteen minutes ago, they were out being romantic in the wild."
Lily dropped the popcorn onto the table.
"I am so, so sorry," she said. "We were on our way to the carriage ride and then it started drizzling and I said, 'Wouldn't it be more romantic to stay in?' and—"
"And I said, 'Stay in with our best friend, who is alone and sad,'" Marshall added. "I thought we were doing a good thing. I didn't realize we were… ambushing you with pajamas."
Victoria laughed weakly.
"This is… not in any of my rom-com expectations," she said.
Marshall suddenly gasped.
"Wait," he said. "You're her. You're the cake girl from the wedding."
Victoria blinked.
"Cake… girl?" she repeated.
"He means it as a compliment," I said. "In his world, baked goods are a love language."
"You're the one from the terrace," Lily said, hand over her heart. "The drumroll girl. Oh, Ted, I love her."
"Strong start," Victoria murmured.
Lily grabbed Marshall's arm.
"We have to leave," she said. "Right now. We cannot be the reason Ted and Victoria develop a complex about bathroom visits."
"Yes, ma'am," Marshall said, already backing toward the door. "We just need—"
"Our stuff," Lily finished. "We'll grab clothes for the night and go to my place."
She turned back to us.
"Okay," she said briskly. "You two stay. We're going. This apartment is now a ritual sanctum. No more surprise entrances."
"That sounds… cult-like," Victoria said.
"It's a sex cult of two," Lily said. "You're welcome."
Marshall pointed at me.
"Use protection," he said.
"Do not say that," I begged.
"And don't say 'I love you,'" Lily added. "Not tonight."
"That's… actually good advice," Victoria said.
They bolted to their room, emerging sixty seconds later with an overnight bag, three snacks, and an energy that screamed flee before you see something you can't un-see.
"We're gone," Lily said, kissing my cheek. "We love you. Be safe. Be honest. Hydrate."
The door slammed behind them.
Silence.
Then Victoria snorted.
"Your friends are insane," she said.
"You say that like it's new information," I replied.
We stared at each other for a beat.
"So," she said. "Bathroom?"
"Bedroom," I corrected. "Then… bathroom. Then… see how it goes."
She smiled.
"Lead the way, architect," she said.
We started toward my room.
And that's exactly when the universe checked its watch and said, Now.
---
Across town, Robin and Barney were zipping up.
Literally.
They stood in front of a floor-length mirror at Barney's favorite tailor.
He adjusted the lapels on a new suit, admiring his reflection.
Robin stepped out of the fitting room wearing a tailored women's suit: dark, sharp lines, white shirt, thin tie.
Barney's jaw actually dropped.
"I am… so proud right now," he said.
Robin checked herself out, turning side to side.
"I look like I'm about to fire someone," she said. "I love it."
"You look like the hot lawyer who wins against me in court, but we still hook up in the stairwell anyway," he said reverently. "It's beautiful."
The tailor fussed with the hem.
"Move," he commanded. "Walk. Sit. Zip."
Robin zipped the jacket, then unzipped it, then zipped it again.
"Feels good," she said. "I get it now. Why you make such a big deal about suits."
Barney smiled.
"This," he announced, "is what I've been saying. Suits are armor and invitation. Zip—" he pulled his jacket closed "—zip—" opened it again "—zip."
"Is that why this episode is called that?" Robin asked.
"Episode?" he repeated.
"Never mind," she said. "Metaphorical episode. In my life. Shut up."
They paid.
They left.
They went to the cigar bar. They played laser tag. They ran through the rain.
By the time the skies really opened up, they were soaked, exhilarated, and a little drunk on adrenaline.
"Storm's getting bad," Robin said as they ducked into a doorway. "My building loses power if someone sneezes near it. We should probably crash at Ted's."
"He's alone," Barney said. "Building a pillow fort of sadness. Perfect bro-rescue opportunity."
She hesitated.
"He might want to be alone," she said softly.
"He always wants to be alone when he's sad," Barney said. "That's why we show up with scotch and terrible ideas. Come on. Laser tag, cigars, emotional repression—it's been a perfect bro-night. Let's finish it strong."
She smiled.
"Okay," she said. "But if we get there and he's mid-cry, we're leaving."
"No promises," Barney said.
They flagged a cab, rain pounding against the roof as they sped toward Brooklyn.
---
Back at the apartment, Victoria and I made it as far as the bedroom doorway.
We were mid-kiss when my phone buzzed on the dresser.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Then again.
"Persistent," she murmured against my mouth.
"They'll live," I murmured back.
Then it started ringing.
"Okay, now it's annoying," she said.
I sighed, grabbed it, and glanced at the screen.
Nox.
Of course.
"I should take this," I said. "If I don't, he'll assume I've been kidnapped."
"Fifteen seconds," she said. "Then I start without you."
"That is not a threat," I said. "That is a promise I fully support."
I answered.
"Hey, can I—"
"Quick question," Nox said. "Are you alive, dead, or mid-regrettable decision?"
"I'm fine," I said. "Busy. Can I call you tomorrow?"
"Define 'busy,'" he said.
I looked at Victoria, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with amused patience.
"Adult busy," I said pointedly.
"Oh," he said. "Oh. Good. Proud of you. Hydrate. Carry on."
He hung up.
I tossed the phone aside.
"Where were we?" I asked.
She patted the mattress.
"About to see if your bed squeaks," she said.
I moved toward her.
Knock, knock, knock.
We froze.
"Please tell me that's the pizza you did not order," she whispered.
"It's… no one," I said. "It's a tree branch. It's the wind."
Knock, knock, knock.
"TED, OPEN UP, IT'S YOUR BRO!" Barney yelled from the hall. "AND YOUR OTHER BRO WHO HAPPENS TO BE A WOMAN BUT IS STILL A BRO!"
Victoria's eyes widened.
"Is that—"
"Yes," I said, dying inside. "That's Barney. And Robin."
She exhaled through her nose.
"Of course it is," she said. "Of course your emotionally complicated friend and your human chaos vector would show up tonight."
I scrambled for my shirt.
"Hey, if we're very quiet, maybe they'll—"
"Ted, we can hear your music," Robin called. "We know you're home. If you don't open the door we're going to assume you died and Barney's going to pick the lock."
"I know how!" Barney added. "I watched a video."
Victoria stood, grabbed her bag.
"Bathroom," she said immediately.
"Bathroom?" I repeated.
She nodded.
"You told her about me, right?" she asked, already backing toward the hall.
"Not… yet," I winced.
"Ted," she hissed.
"I was going to!" I said. "After tonight. The timing never…"
She closed her eyes.
"Ted," she said slowly, "I like Robin. She seems great. But if she finds out about me like this—"
"She'll tease me forever?" I guessed.
"She'll feel like the last one to know," Victoria said. "And that sucks."
I hesitated.
"Do you want to meet her?" I asked. "Really meet her. Tonight. As my girlfriend."
She studied me.
"I do," she said. "But I also don't want to crash her bro night or turn your apartment into the place where everyone's unresolved feelings collide."
"Too late," I muttered.
She squeezed my hand.
"Hide me," she said. "For now. You get to pick the moment you tell her. Not Barney. Not the storm. You."
I swallowed.
"You sure?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said. "One weird night of hiding in a bathroom is better than meeting your friends in wet clothes with cigars."
She kissed my cheek.
"Go," she said. "I'll… reorganize your toothpaste or something."
Knock, knock, knock.
"TED, I'M GETTING THE SUPER," Barney shouted.
I jogged down the hall, called, "Coming!" and reached the door just as Barney knocked again.
I opened it.
They were soaked.
Robin in jeans and a shirt, hair damp, cheeks flushed from the cold and adrenaline.
Barney in a suit that looked personally offended by the weather.
"Bro!" he said. "We brought the storm. And our feelings. Let us in."
I stepped aside.
They tromped in, Robin shaking water off like a Labrador.
"Wow," she said, looking around. "Candles, music, vaguely romantic lighting. You really are leaning into the sad breakup vibe."
"Yeah," Barney said. "This is peak 'I masturbated to a memory and fell asleep on my own chest' energy."
"Thank you for that," I said. "That's… vivid."
"Anytime," he said.
Robin dropped onto the couch.
"We had the best bro night," she told me. "Laser tag, cigars, Barney admitting he has feelings sometimes—"
"Allegedly," he cut in.
"Kidding," she said. "He has none. It was great."
Barney flopped into a chair.
"And then we realized: what is a bro night without checking on Broseph Mosby?" he said.
I stayed standing.
"Wow. Very touching," I said. "You guys should—"
"Stay?" Robin finished. "We were thinking that. It's gross outside. My place is probably a crime scene of leaks right now."
"Yeah," Barney said. "We'll crash here. Perfect end to the perfect platonic night."
My heart sank.
"Crash… here?" I repeated.
"In this apartment?" Robin said slowly. "With the couch. And the blankets. And the probably-not-frozen pipes."
She plucked at her shirt.
"I need to dry off," she said. "Got anything oversized and flannel?"
"Yeah," I said, thoughts racing. "Hall closet. Towels too. You can use the—"
Bathroom.
My bathroom.
Where Victoria was hiding.
"—kitchen sink," I finished weakly. "Very rustic."
Robin frowned.
"Why would I wash in the kitchen sink?" she asked. "I'll just use your shower."
She stood.
Panic surged.
"NO," I said.
They both stared at me.
"I mean," I said, scrambling, "it's broken. The shower. Pipes. Disaster. Whole thing's a… plumbing crime."
Barney narrowed his eyes.
"That's interesting," he said. "Because last week you told me you spent forty minutes in there having a thoughtful moment."
"Yeah," Robin said. "You literally call it your 'think shower.'"
I cursed my own honesty.
"There was… a leak," I said. "Recently. Maintenance. Very boring. You don't want to go in there."
They exchanged a look.
Something in Robin's face shifted.
She knew me.
"Okay," she said lightly. "Then I'll just use the bathroom down the hall. In the lobby."
"That one's for guests," I said. "You're not a guest. You're… family."
"Bathroom discrimination?" she said. "Wow, Mosby."
She started toward the hall.
I moved to block.
Barney's eyes lit with interest.
"What's in the bathroom, Ted?" he asked. "Drugs? Bodies? Erotic fan fiction about me?"
"Yes," I said. "All of that. Please don't go in there."
Robin put a hand on my shoulder.
"Relax," she said. "It's me. I won't judge you if there are three different shampoos and a sad loofah."
I looked at her.
At Barney.
At the hallway.
At my entire life collapsing in on itself.
"Fine," I said. "But let me go in first. I… need to make sure it's not a crime scene."
Robin frowned.
"Ted, what could possibly—"
"Fifteen seconds," I said, already backing away. "Then it's all yours."
I bolted down the hall.
---
I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
Victoria was perched on the edge of the tub, hands folded, listening like it was a radio drama.
"Status?" she whispered.
"Escalating," I said. "They want to crash here. She wants a shower. He wants my secrets. I'm two seconds away from faking a gas leak."
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Okay," she said. "Option one: I climb out the window."
"There is no fire escape," I said. "And we're five floors up."
"Option two," she tried, "I hide in the shower and hold my breath."
"For how long?" I asked. "She's not rinsing a spoon. She's defrosting."
"Option three," she said, "…we tell her."
I froze.
"She's your friend," Victoria said softly. "I don't want to be a secret forever."
"I know," I said. "I want to tell her. I'm just… afraid of what it means if she knows I'm happy with someone else."
There it was.
Out loud.
Victoria looked at me for a long second.
Then nodded.
"Okay," she said. "Thank you for saying that like a human and not like a sitcom."
I half-laughed, half-groaned.
"Can I phone a friend?" I asked.
"Make it quick," she said. "She's probably already suspicious."
I pulled out my phone.
Dialed.
---
At Bryce's apartment, she and Nox were halfway through a movie and halfway through ignoring it.
Her head was on his chest. His arm was around her shoulders. Empty takeout containers littered the coffee table.
Her phone buzzed.
She checked it.
"Ted," she said. "Bathroom panic. Do you want it?"
Nox sighed.
"Put him on speaker," he said.
I whispered as soon as it connected.
"Okay, I need tactical extraction," I said. "I'm in the bathroom. With Victoria. Robin and Barney are in my living room. They think I'm alone and sad. We were about to—"
"Spare us the visual," Bryce said.
"Options," I begged. "Tell me how to get out of this without emotionally detonating everyone."
Nox considered.
"Option A," he said. "Fire alarm. Pull it. Everyone evacuates. You blend into the crowd with Victoria, disappear upstairs later. Downside: felony."
"Hard pass," I said.
"Option B," he continued. "Fake food poisoning. You clutch your stomach, kick everyone out, claim you need to destroy the bathroom alone."
"I am not weaponizing diarrhea," I hissed.
"Option C," Bryce said, "you tell Robin the truth like a grown-up, she meets Victoria under non-weird circumstances, and Barney goes back to whatever swamp he crawled out of."
"That sounds… hard," I said.
"That's because it's healthy," she replied.
"Look," Nox said, "you're not hiding Victoria because she's a secret. You're hiding her because you're still scared of closing doors in your head."
He was right.
I hated that he was right.
"Robin will be happy you're happy," Bryce said. "And if she's not, that's a different conversation. But you can't stall forever by locking your girlfriend in a bathroom."
We all paused.
"Wow," I said. "When you say it like that, I sound awful."
"You're not awful," Nox said. "You're just… Mosbying. Face it, fix it."
Robin knocked on the bathroom door.
"Ted?" she called. "You fall in or what?"
Victoria squeezed my hand.
"Go," she said. "Tell her. I'll… be here. Existing."
I took a breath.
"Okay," I told them. "I'm doing it. Pulling the ripcord. No more hiding. If this blows up, I'm blaming you both in my future memoir."
"Noted," Bryce said.
"Proud of you," Nox added.
I hung up.
Turned to Victoria.
"Ready?" I asked.
"As I'll ever be," she said.
I opened the door a crack.
Robin stood there, arms folded.
"What is happening?" she demanded.
"Okay," I said. "I can explain."
I opened the door fully.
Victoria stepped out.
Robin's eyes went wide.
"Oh," she said.
"Hi," Victoria said, offering a small, nervous wave. "I'm… not a plumbing issue."
Robin stared between us.
"Right," she said slowly. "You two are…?"
"Dating," I said. "For about a month."
Robin processed that.
"And the reason you've been limping emotionally since the wedding… is because…?" she prompted.
"She's the cake girl from the wedding," I said. "The one-night rule girl. The terrace girl. I found her bakery. We broke the rule. We've been seeing each other quietly while I tried not to turn it into a musical in my head."
Victoria sighed.
"He means we took it slow," she translated.
Robin blinked.
Then something loosened in her expression.
"Well," she said finally. "That… makes sense."
"It does?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said. "You've been… lighter, lately. Less 'slutty pumpkin haunting a rooftop,' more 'guy who sleeps sometimes.' I wondered if it was just therapy or if you were seeing someone."
"You thought I was in therapy?" I asked.
"I was hoping," she said.
We all laughed, tension cracking.
"So," I said. "You're… not mad?"
She smiled, a little ruefully.
"I'm… surprised," she admitted. "And a tiny bit sad you didn't tell me sooner. But mostly… I'm happy for you."
The weight sliding off my chest was almost visible.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I was… afraid it would change things."
"It does," she said honestly. "But maybe not in the way you think."
She looked at Victoria.
"Can I steal him for, like, thirty seconds?" she asked.
Victoria nodded.
"I'll… give you three," she said.
She squeezed my arm and retreated halfway down the hall, out of earshot.
Robin stepped closer.
"Okay, listen," she said quietly. "I need to say this once, fast, and then we never talk about it again."
"Uh… okay," I said.
"When we met," she said, "you came on way too strong. I liked you, but timing sucked. Then there was Mike, and you, and the Slutty Pumpkin, and… everything. It was a mess."
"Yeah," I said.
"But seeing you with her?" she said, nodding toward Victoria. "It… fits. You feel… less frantic. Like you're not trying to convince the universe you deserve love every time you breathe."
I swallowed.
"I still want… that big thing," I admitted.
"I know," she said. "And maybe she's it. Or maybe she's one of the chapters you need before you find it. Either way? I'm glad you're not sitting alone in here building Lego skyscrapers and calling it coping."
I laughed.
"Thank you," I said softly.
"And," she added, "this also means that whatever weird thing is happening—or not happening—with me and Barney stays in the 'we got cigars once' category and not the 'we all made terrible choices' one."
I blinked.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Different episode."
"Robin—"
She clapped a hand over my mouth.
"Shh," she said. "We're not opening that sub-plot tonight."
She dropped her hand.
"I'm happy for you," she repeated. "Don't blow this. Don't Mosby it. Just… be in it."
I nodded.
"I'll try," I said.
She stepped back.
"Now," she said more loudly, "go rescue your girlfriend from the hallway. I'll keep Barney away from the bathroom."
"Thank you," I said.
"And Ted?" she added, smile skewed. "Her name's Victoria. It's not 'cake girl.' Stop calling her that in your head."
Guilty.
I went back to Victoria.
"Well?" she asked.
"She's… okay," I said. "Happy for us. Also mildly offended I didn't share sooner. Which is fair."
Victoria let out a breath.
"Good," she said. "I like her. I'd prefer she didn't hate my existence."
We shared a small, relieved smile.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Now you go play good host so they don't suspect I'm still hiding," she said. "I'll slip out when the next storm gust hits and they get distracted. We make our night… a little shorter, but not ruined."
"You sure?" I asked. "We can still—"
"Ted," she said softly. "We already had a great night. No sex can change the fact that you chose to tell your friend the truth instead of hiding me."
She kissed my cheek.
"That matters more than whatever gymnastics we were going to attempt," she added.
I smiled, stupidly fond.
"You're… amazing," I said.
"I bake feelings into carbs," she said. "It's my job."
---
Back in the living room, Barney had found the scotch.
"Oh good, you're alive," he said as I appeared. "We thought maybe you drowned in your own self-pity."
Robin elbowed him.
"Bathroom's clear," she said. "Nothing to see. Definitely no hidden girlfriends."
Barney squinted at her.
"You're a terrible liar," he said.
She shrugged.
"Or am I an excellent one?" she replied.
He opened his mouth, then thought better of it.
"Whatever," he said. "Point is, we're here. It's late. The storm is biblical. Let's talk commitment issues and why you keep chasing grand gestures like a Disney princess with a credit card."
"Tempting," I said. "But I actually… have an early start tomorrow. Big… project."
"Lies," he said.
"Maybe," I admitted. "But also, this isn't really a bro-night. You guys had that already. I was just the post-credit scene."
Robin smiled.
"He's right," she said to Barney. "We can go. Let the man have his flannel-scented feelings in peace."
Barney glanced between us.
Something unspoken passed there, too.
He slung on his coat.
"Fine," he said. "But for the record, Mosby, if you are secretly hooking up with someone and you didn't tell me, I will be deeply hurt and also impressed."
"Noted," I said.
They headed for the door.
Robin paused.
"Text me tomorrow," she said. "I want bakery recommendations."
I nodded.
"Deal," I said.
They left.
The apartment quieted.
---
Ten minutes later, another knock.
I opened the door.
Victoria stood there, hair damp from the cold, holding the emergency cupcakes.
"Extraction successful?" I asked.
"Robin walked me out under her umbrella," she said. "Pretty sure she threatened you on my behalf."
"Sounds right," I said.
She stepped inside again, but this time only to set the box on the counter.
"I should go home," she said. "It's late. You're wrung out. I smell like rain and sugar."
"I like both of those," I said.
"I know," she smiled. "But if we try again tonight, it's going to be about proving we can, not about… us."
She was right.
"Rain check," I said.
"Literally," she said, glancing at the window.
We stood there for a second.
"I'm glad you told her," she said. "Even if the execution involved hiding me in your bathroom like a raccoon."
"Raccoons are clever," I said. "High compliment."
She kissed me—soft, lingering.
"Next time," she murmured, "no interruptions."
"Next time," I agreed.
She pulled back.
"Zip me?" she asked, turning slightly.
There it was.
A small zipper at the back of her dress.
My fingers found it.
Pulled it up, slow and careful.
Zip.
Something in my chest zipped, too.
Not closed.
Not shut.
Just… aligned.
"All set," I said.
She smiled.
"See you soon, Mosby," she said.
She left.
I closed the door behind her, leaned my forehead against it, and let out a long breath.
---
Kids, that night didn't go the way I planned.
We didn't sleep together.
We didn't have the flawless, candlelit, montage-ready moment I'd built in my head.
Instead, we had:
An ambush by my married roommates.
A storm-delivered bro-night at my front door.
A secret bathroom summit.
A confession to Robin I'd been avoiding.
And here's what I learned:
You can't control the timing.
You can't script the night.
You can't zip your life into neat compartments where one thing doesn't touch another.
What you can do is choose, in the mess, to be honest.
With yourself.
With the people you love.
With the girl waiting quietly in the bathroom while you decide who you want to be.
As for me and Victoria?
We did eventually get the night we'd planned.
But by then, it meant something deeper.
Not because it was perfect.
But because we'd already zipped a few more pieces of our lives together—and they didn't fall apart.
And as for Robin and Barney?
Well.
Their bro-night?
That was its own kind of drumroll.
But that's another story.