"Alright," I tell you two, settling deeper into the couch like I'm about to confess to a minor felony. This is the one where Marshall gets a taste of Lily again… and immediately tries to mainline the relationship like it's medicine."
Bryce nods, dead serious. "He panics in romance."
"And," I add, "everyone else panics in their own stupid ways."
---
Season 2, Episode 8
Weekend Lily
2006 — Thursday Morning, Nyx Co
My office was quiet in the good way—early enough that no one had started asking me questions I didn't want to answer.
Sunlight came in clean through the glass, sliding across the conference table where a prototype tablet sat charging. Sleek, matte, affordable—my favorite kind of middle finger to luxury brands.
I was halfway through signing off on a new clothing shipment—kids' jackets, reinforced seams, warm lining, priced like I actually wanted parents to survive—when my phone buzzed.
Lily.
I froze for a second.
Not because Lily calling was rare.
Because Lily calling meant one of two things:
1. She was having a good day and wanted to share it.
2. Something cracked and she was trying not to fall through it.
I answered immediately. "Hey."
Her voice came through brighter than it had in weeks, like someone had turned the saturation up.
"Nox! Okay—don't freak out."
I sat back slowly. "I'm already emotionally standing in the doorway with my shoes on."
She laughed—an actual laugh, not the tired kind. "I'm coming to New York."
I blinked. "Like… coming-coming?"
"Like… Friday night to Sunday afternoon," she said. "I got a break. Studio's dark for two days. And I—" her voice softened, just a touch, "—I miss my people."
My throat tightened. Not dramatically—just enough to remind me I wasn't made of steel, no matter how expensive my chair was.
"Marshall knows?" I asked.
A pause. A smile in her voice.
"No," she said. "I wanted to tell you first because… I don't want him to go full golden retriever."
I exhaled. "He's already in golden retriever mode. You're about to make him evolve into a full labrador."
She groaned. "Exactly. So can you… manage him?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Lily. I'm not the Department of Marshall."
"You're the closest thing we've got," she said sweetly, like that was a compliment and not a threat to my sanity. "Please. I just want it to be good. Not… desperate."
I glanced at the prototype tablet like it was going to give me a strategy.
"Okay," I said. "I'll tell him. But you need to set expectations."
"I will," she promised. "I'm not moving back yet. I'm not… quitting. I just want a weekend where I can breathe."
"Good," I said, firm. "That's exactly what it should be."
She hesitated. "Also… can Bryce come?"
That made me smile despite myself.
"She can if she's not filming," I said.
"I just like having her around," Lily admitted. "She makes everything feel… less dramatic."
"That's because she's emotionally literate," I said. "Unlike the rest of us feral raccoons."
Lily laughed again. "Okay. Tell Marshall. But tell him in a way that doesn't make him start planning a wedding in the next ten minutes."
I stared at the ceiling.
"No promises," I muttered.
---
2006 — Ten Minutes Later, My Apartment
Bryce was barefoot in my kitchen, hair tied up, wearing one of my T-shirts like she'd claimed it under maritime law.
She was making eggs. Not fancy eggs—real eggs. Simple. Old-school. Comfort food. The kind of thing you make when you're grounded.
I walked in like a man carrying dangerous information.
She looked up instantly. "Lily?"
"Lily," I confirmed. "She's coming to New York for the weekend."
Bryce's face lit up in a way I didn't get to see often—pure warmth, no calculation. "Good."
"Yeah," I said. "Good."
Then the dread returned.
"She asked me to manage Marshall," I added.
Bryce slid the eggs onto a plate and leaned on the counter. "He's going to panic-romance."
"He's going to propose again," I said flatly.
Bryce blinked. "He already proposed."
"Yeah," I said. "He's going to re-propose. Like a software update."
Bryce laughed into her hand. "Oh no."
I pointed a fork at her. "You're coming with me when I tell him. You're the calm one."
Bryce nodded immediately. "Yes. Because if you do it alone, you'll make a joke at the worst moment."
"I would never," I lied.
She just stared until I sighed.
"Fine," I admitted. "I would absolutely."
---
2006 — Marshall's Apartment, The Announcement
Marshall opened the door before we knocked—like he'd been waiting for someone to show up and save him from his own thoughts.
He looked better than he had a few days ago. Still tired, still thin around the eyes, but upright. Functional. A man building himself out of duct tape and hope.
"Nox," he said. "Bryce. What's up?"
Bryce smiled softly. "We have news."
Marshall's face changed instantly—hope rising, fear right behind it like a shadow.
"What?" he breathed.
I stepped inside, keeping my voice steady. No jokes. No theatrics.
"Lily's coming to New York this weekend," I said. "Friday night to Sunday."
Marshall didn't move.
His eyes went wide like his brain had to re-process reality.
Then he made a sound—half laugh, half sob—and stumbled backward like the floor had tilted.
"She's—she's coming?" he whispered, like saying it louder would scare it away.
Bryce nodded. "Yes."
Marshall pressed both hands to his face.
"Oh my God," he breathed through his palms. "Oh my God."
I watched him for a beat, letting him have it. Letting him feel joy without immediately slapping it with logistics.
Then he dropped his hands and snapped into motion like a man activated by a switch.
"Okay," he said fast. "Okay. So we clean. We clean everything. We buy flowers. We—"
"Marshall," Bryce said gently.
He paused.
"She's not moving back," Bryce continued, calm and careful. "It's a visit. A weekend."
His smile faltered, just a little.
"I know," he said too fast. "I know. I'm not—"
"You are," I said, not harsh, just honest. "You're already trying to make this weekend carry the weight of the entire relationship."
Marshall's eyes glistened. "Because I miss her."
"I know," I said. "But if you crush her with expectations the moment she arrives, she's going to feel like she can't breathe. And she's coming here because she wants to breathe."
Marshall swallowed, fighting himself.
Bryce stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. "You want it to be good," she said. "So make it gentle. Make it safe. Make it normal."
Marshall nodded slowly, trying to absorb it.
"Okay," he whispered. "Normal. I can do normal."
Then—because he's Marshall—his hope turned into a plan anyway.
"We should go somewhere," he blurted. "Like… a trip. Like a couple trip. Like—like Atlantic City!"
I blinked. "Why Atlantic City?"
He lit up. "Because it's close! And it's romantic! And we can—" his voice dropped, intense, "—we can get married."
Bryce closed her eyes like she was begging the universe for patience.
I stared at him. "Marshall."
He looked at me, eyes shining with desperation disguised as romance.
"She's here," he whispered. "What if this is the moment we fix it?"
I softened, because there it was again—the heartbreak logic.
"If I can lock it down, it can't leave.*
Bryce's voice stayed gentle but firm. "Getting married doesn't fix distance," she said. "It just puts a ring on it."
Marshall flinched like that hurt.
"It's not about the ring," he insisted. "It's about… us. Being solid again."
I leaned forward, steady. "You can't build 'solid' out of panic."
Marshall's shoulders sagged.
"But," I added, because I wasn't trying to crush him, "a weekend trip could be good. Not for marriage. For memories. For fun."
Marshall blinked. "So… not married."
"Not married," Bryce repeated.
He sighed, defeated for one second… then nodded.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay. Trip. Not wedding."
Then his eyes narrowed at me. "You're coming."
I pointed at myself. "Why am I coming?"
"Because," Marshall said, deadly sincere, "if you don't come, Ted will come, and then Ted will make it weird and meaningful."
That was… annoyingly accurate.
Bryce raised an eyebrow. "And me?"
Marshall looked at Bryce like she was a lighthouse. "Yes, please."
Bryce sighed. "Fine. But I'm not letting you propose in a casino lobby."
Marshall nodded quickly. "Deal."
I didn't like this plan.
But I liked the alternative less: Marshall alone with his own expectations.
So I exhaled. "Fine. I'll call the others."
Marshall brightened again. "Yes!"
I lifted a finger. "One rule."
He blinked. "What?"
"You don't tell Lily you planned this as a secret wedding mission," I said. "You tell her it's a fun weekend. If she says no, you accept it like an adult."
Marshall swallowed. "Okay."
He looked like he was going to try.
Which was all you could ask for.
---
2006 — MacLaren's, That Night
The booth was full. That alone was rare these days.
Ted had the exhausted eyes of a man still employed but emotionally mugged.
Robin had her usual calm mask on—sharp, composed, untouchable—like work had trained her to keep everything locked behind glass.
Barney arrived last, grinning like he could smell a bad decision in the air.
Marshall sat upright, bouncing with energy he hadn't had since Lily left—like hope was a stimulant.
I slid in beside Bryce, my hand brushing her knee under the table like a quiet reminder: we're here, we're steady.
Marshall clapped his hands once. "Okay! I have news!"
Barney leaned forward. "If this is about a new kind of underwear, I'm in."
Ted blinked. "Why would it be—"
"It's not underwear," Marshall snapped, offended. Then his face softened into something almost sacred.
"Lily's coming to New York this weekend."
Ted's face lit up instantly. "Yes!"
Robin's expression softened, just a fraction. "That's… good."
Barney blinked. "Wow. Your sadness plotline has a guest star."
Marshall ignored him, too happy.
"And," Marshall continued, "we should all go to Atlantic City."
Ted's smile froze. "Why Atlantic City?"
Marshall spoke too fast. "Because it's fun and romantic and close and we can all have a weekend away and Lily will be here and it'll be great."
Robin narrowed her eyes. "That was a lot of words to not answer the question."
Barney raised a finger. "I have never been to Atlantic City with a group of friends and not ended up in handcuffs."
Ted looked at Marshall. "Is this… your idea?"
Marshall nodded. "Yes."
Ted looked at me. "Is this a good idea?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Bryce did, calm and clear. "It can be," she said. "If everyone behaves like an adult."
Barney scoffed. "So it's doomed."
Robin's lips twitched. "I'm working Saturday."
Marshall's smile dipped.
Ted leaned toward Robin. "You can't take a day?"
Robin gave him a look. "No."
Ted's face tightened—just a touch—because Ted still struggled with the concept that career wasn't a hobby.
Before Ted could spiral, I cut in.
"Robin can't go," I said. "That's reality. We're not forcing it."
Robin glanced at me, appreciative.
Marshall looked disappointed, but he nodded.
"Okay," Marshall said. "Okay. That's fine. Lily will still come. Ted will come. Nox and Bryce will come."
Barney grinned. "And I will come… because casinos are my church."
Ted hesitated. "I don't know if I can. Hammond—"
"Your boss is a clown," I said flatly. "You need two days away before you commit a workplace homicide."
Ted swallowed, then nodded like he hated that I was right.
Marshall leaned forward, eyes bright. "So we're doing it?"
Barney slapped the table. "Legend—"
Bryce pointed at him. "No."
Barney's mouth shut mid-word. "Fine. We're doing it."
Marshall exhaled like his lungs had been waiting for permission.
And in that moment, watching him glow with hope, I understood the real danger:
This trip wasn't a vacation to him.
It was a test.
A proof-of-life.
A chance to pretend—just for two days—that Lily never left.
And pretending is sweet.
Right up until reality shows up and demands payment.
" I tell you two, because you're staring at me like I'm about to lie. "This is the weekend Lily came back… and Marshall immediately tried to trap joy in a jar."
Bryce tilts her head. "It's cute until it's terrifying."
"It's cute and terrifying," I correct. "That's basically our brand."
---
2006 — Friday Night, Penn Station
New York at night is romantic in the same way a car crash is "exciting." Everything moves too fast, everyone's loud, and somehow you still feel alone if you're standing still.
Marshall couldn't stand still.
He kept checking the arrivals board like it was a sacred text. Every thirty seconds he'd glance at his watch, then at the clock above the platform, then at the board again.
Ted stood beside him with a tight, tired posture—still carrying the weight of Hammond Druthers like a backpack filled with bricks.
Barney was there for no reason other than the fact that he can smell emotion and wants to film it mentally.
Robin wasn't. Work.
That was a whole separate problem simmering under Ted's skin, but tonight wasn't about Ted's simmering. Tonight was about Marshall trying not to explode.
Bryce and I hung back a little, giving him room to pace.
Bryce leaned into me, voice low. "If he starts crying on the platform, you handle it."
I blinked. "Why is that my job?"
"Because if I handle it," she said, deadpan, "I'll start crying too and then we'll have a group sob and people will throw pennies at us."
I exhaled a laugh. "Fair."
The train announcement crackled overhead, and Marshall froze like someone hit pause.
"Now arriving—"
Marshall's eyes went wide.
Ted's expression softened for the first time in days.
Even Barney shut up for half a second, which is how you know this mattered.
Lily stepped off the train with a tote bag and a backpack, hair tied up, cheeks flushed from travel, and eyes scanning the platform like she was searching for home in human form.
Then she saw him.
Marshall made a sound that was not a word. Not a sob. Not a laugh.
Just… pure relief escaping his body.
Lily dropped her bag and rushed forward.
Marshall met her halfway, arms wrapping around her like he was afraid she'd evaporate if he didn't hold on tight enough.
Lily buried her face in his shoulder, and for a second the city noise faded.
"I missed you," she whispered into him.
Marshall's voice cracked immediately. "I missed you so much."
They stood like that too long for a public station and too short for a long-distance relationship.
Ted looked away, blinking hard.
Barney watched like he was witnessing a rare animal in the wild.
Bryce's hand slid into mine. A quiet squeeze.
Lily finally pulled back, eyes shining, and smiled up at Marshall—warm, tired, real.
Then she looked past him and saw the rest of us.
"Nox," she said, relief blooming. "Bryce."
Bryce stepped in first and hugged her gently—no dramatics, just grounding.
"Welcome back," Bryce murmured.
Lily exhaled like she'd been holding her breath since California. "Oh my God. It smells like pretzels and car exhaust. I'm home."
I hugged her too, a quick squeeze. "You're alive. Nobody went to jail. Good start."
Her eyes flicked to Ted—instant guilt.
Ted gave her a small, careful smile. "Hey."
Lily's voice went soft. "Hi. I'm… I'm sorry about—"
Ted shook his head fast, cutting her off. "Not tonight. Please."
Lily nodded, swallowing it down.
Barney stepped forward, grinning. "Lily Aldrin. Back from San Francisco. How's the art? Do you paint topless now? Very important question."
Lily stared at him. "Barney."
"Still mean," Barney said, delighted. "Nature is healing."
Marshall tightened his hold on Lily's hand like he needed the contact constant.
"Okay," he said, too energized. "We go home. We sleep. Tomorrow—Atlantic City."
Lily blinked. "Tomorrow what?"
Marshall froze.
That was the first time I saw it—he'd been living in his head so hard he forgot other people weren't reading his internal calendar.
Ted coughed. "Surprise."
Lily looked at all of us, suspicious. "Why is this a surprise?"
Marshall smiled too wide. "Because it's fun."
Lily narrowed her eyes. "Marshall… why?"
Barney jumped in. "Because Atlantic City is the Vegas of New Jersey—if Vegas had depression and slightly wetter carpeting."
Bryce gave Barney a look that could curdle milk. He shrugged, unbothered.
I stepped in before Marshall started spilling his secret "fix everything forever" fantasy.
"It's a weekend," I said. "Two days. No pressure. Just… time together. Real time."
Lily looked at Marshall. "No pressure?"
Marshall nodded too fast. "No pressure."
Lily's eyes softened. "Okay," she said, quiet. "Okay. I can do a weekend."
Marshall exhaled like he'd just won a war.
But I watched his face.
That wasn't relief.
That was a man hearing the starter pistol.
---
2006 — Saturday Morning, On the Road to Atlantic City
We took a cramped bus because Marshall insisted on "group bonding," which is what people say when they mean "I need witnesses to keep me from doing something insane."
Barney had snacks. Ted had a book he wasn't reading. Lily had her sketchbook tucked in her bag like a talisman.
Marshall sat pressed against Lily like the bus might steal her.
Bryce sat beside me, calm as ever, watching the dynamics like she was reading a script that kept changing mid-scene.
Lily leaned her head against Marshall's shoulder, eyes half-closed, and for a few minutes it looked easy.
Then Marshall whispered something into her hair.
Lily's posture stiffened slightly.
Her eyes opened.
And I knew, without hearing the words, that he'd started pushing.
Not on purpose. Not cruelly.
Just… unconsciously trying to cram six weeks of missing into two days.
Lily lifted her head and looked at him, gentle but firm.
"Marsh," she murmured.
Marshall blinked. "What?"
"Breathe," she said softly. "Just… breathe."
Marshall swallowed. "I am breathing."
Lily smiled, but there was a tired edge. "You're breathing like you're afraid I'll disappear."
Marshall's face crumpled a little.
Lily reached for his hand and squeezed. "I'm here."
That should've soothed him.
Instead, it lit him up—because now he wanted to keep her here.
His eyes slid past Lily's shoulder toward the window, as if he could already see the chapel lights of Atlantic City glowing like salvation.
Bryce leaned toward me, voice low. "He's thinking it."
"I know," I muttered.
"Don't let him," she said.
"Also," I added, "don't let me let him."
Bryce huffed a tiny laugh. "Deal."
---
2006 — Atlantic City, Early Afternoon
Atlantic City greeted us like a drunk uncle: loud, bright, slightly sticky, and absolutely convinced it was charming.
The air smelled like cigarettes, salt, and desperation dressed up as glamour.
Marshall looked thrilled anyway.
Lily looked overwhelmed but amused, like she was watching a weird little human zoo and trying to be polite about it.
Ted's eyes darted around like he'd entered a new habitat where he wasn't sure if he was predator or prey.
Barney, of course, looked like he'd come home.
"My church," he whispered, stepping into the casino lobby. "My mother. My lover."
Bryce's eyebrows lifted. "You need therapy."
Barney grinned. "I need blackjack."
We checked into the hotel. Marshall insisted on sharing a suite arrangement "for closeness," which I vetoed immediately because I have boundaries and also because I like sleeping without hearing Ted's midnight existential sighs.
Rooms assigned. Bags dropped.
And the second Lily and Marshall had a moment alone in the room hallway, Marshall pounced—not physically. Emotionally.
"Okay," he said, voice eager, "so later we can do dinner, then maybe a show, and then—"
Lily smiled. "Okay."
"And then," Marshall continued, already accelerating, "maybe we can go down to the boardwalk and talk about—"
Lily's smile tightened slightly. "Marshall…"
"And then maybe tomorrow we can—"
"Marshall," she said again, gentler, but with warning.
He finally stopped, eyes wide.
Lily reached up and smoothed his cheek with her thumb—affectionate, grounding.
"I missed you too," she said quietly. "But you don't have to sprint through the whole weekend like you're afraid it ends if you slow down."
Marshall swallowed hard. "I just…"
"I know," she whispered. "But I'm here. For real. So let's actually be here."
Marshall nodded like he understood.
Then his eyes flicked down the hallway—past the elevators—toward a neon sign in the lobby directory:
CHAPEL / WEDDINGS
His gaze lingered.
Lily didn't see it.
I did.
Bryce did.
Ted did too—because Ted can smell "meaningful" from three miles away and it alarms him like a fire drill.
Ted grabbed my arm the second Lily walked into the room.
"He's going to propose again," Ted hissed.
I stared at him. "Yes."
Ted's eyes went wide. "Stop him!"
I blinked. "Why is it always 'stop him' like I'm the relationship police?"
Ted's voice cracked with panic. "Because if he proposes and she says no, it's going to destroy him!"
Bryce stepped closer, calm but firm. "He can't propose out of fear."
Ted looked at her like she'd said something obscene. "It's not fear. It's love."
Bryce's gaze didn't move. "It can be both."
That hit Ted like a slap.
Barney wandered up, already holding a casino drink like he'd spawned it from the ether.
"Are we discussing a proposal?" Barney asked, thrilled. "Because I have notes. And a ring dealer. And a backup ring dealer."
Bryce stared at him. "Of course you do."
Barney smiled. "I network."
I rubbed my forehead. "Okay. New rule: nobody encourages Marshall."
Barney looked offended. "I am a professional encourager."
"Be a professional silent person," Bryce said.
Barney scoffed. "That's not a job."
"It is now," Bryce replied.
---
2006 — The Casino Floor, Late Afternoon
We tried to distract Marshall the classic way: give him something to do so he can't spiral.
It almost worked.
Barney dragged Ted toward a blackjack table like he was rescuing him from sobriety.
"Come on, Teddy-boy," Barney said, too cheerful. "You look like a man who needs to lose money to feel alive."
Ted frowned. "I don't gamble."
Barney put a hand on his shoulder. "That's because you've never been free."
Ted's mouth opened, then shut, because somehow Barney sounded convincing when he was wrong.
Marshall wandered the casino floor with Lily, holding her hand, pointing at lights and signs like he was trying to show her a world where nothing hurt.
Lily laughed at something he said—real laughter—and for a moment Marshall looked like himself again.
Not desperate.
Just happy.
Then they passed the chapel entrance.
A couple in wedding clothes stepped out, beaming, confetti stuck in their hair.
Marshall slowed.
Lily glanced at the couple and smiled. "Aw. Cute."
Marshall's eyes lit up like he'd seen a prophecy.
"Yeah," he breathed. "Cute."
Bryce and I were a few steps behind. I felt my spine go cold.
Bryce leaned close. "He's going to do it."
"Not on my watch," I muttered.
She arched a brow. "That sounded heroic."
"It's not heroic," I said. "It's self-defense."
Marshall kept walking… but his gaze kept flicking back.
Lily didn't notice.
She was talking—about her class, her studio, the weird dolphin girl, the way California sunlight made everything feel too exposed.
Marshall nodded, but he wasn't fully listening anymore.
He was hearing only one thing:
She's here. She's here. She's here.
And the fear underneath it:
She could leave again.
He squeezed Lily's hand too tightly.
Lily noticed that.
She looked up at him, concern sliding in. "Marshall… are you okay?"
Marshall smiled too fast. "I'm great."
Lily's expression shifted—soft, but wary. "You're doing that thing."
"What thing?" he asked, too innocent.
"The thing where you act like if you're enthusiastic enough, you can force life to be safe," Lily said quietly.
Marshall blinked.
That line hit him right in the ribs.
Because it was true.
He swallowed. "I just want… us."
Lily nodded, eyes gentle. "Me too."
Marshall's voice went smaller. "I don't want to go back to the quiet."
Lily's face softened with something like pain. "I know."
Marshall looked at her like he was about to say it.
The big thing.
The stupid thing.
The thing that would either make this weekend magical or make it bleed.
Bryce stepped forward smoothly, cutting into the moment like a scalpel.
"Hey," she said, bright and casual, "Lily. Come with me. Bathroom. Girl code. Emergency."
Lily blinked. "Emergency?"
Bryce nodded with complete conviction. "Yes."
Lily looked confused but followed, because Lily trusted Bryce in that way you trust someone who feels like a stable floor.
As they walked off, Lily glanced back at Marshall, smiling apologetically.
Marshall stood there, suddenly alone, breathing hard like his body didn't know what to do without her right next to him.
I stepped in beside him, low voice, no humor.
"Don't," I said.
Marshall's eyes snapped to me. "Don't what?"
"Don't propose," I said bluntly. "Not like this."
His face flushed. "I wasn't—"
"You were," I said. "You're not trying to marry her. You're trying to erase the distance."
Marshall's jaw clenched, hurt rising.
"That's not fair," he whispered.
"It's accurate," I said. "And I'm not judging you. I'm stopping you from doing something you'll regret."
Marshall's eyes filled, angry tears this time.
"I just want her to come back," he said, voice cracking. "I want my life back."
I nodded, because I couldn't argue with that.
"I know," I said quietly. "But you don't get your life back by trapping her. You get it back by surviving the in-between without making her responsible for your fear."
Marshall stared at the carpet like it had answers.
He whispered, "I hate this."
"I know," I said.
He looked up at me, raw and honest.
"What if she likes it there more than she likes it with me?" he asked.
That question wasn't about Atlantic City.
That was the real wound.
I swallowed. "Then you deal with reality," I said. "But you don't borrow grief from the future. You have her this weekend. Don't turn it into a test she didn't agree to take."
Marshall's breathing slowed a little.
He nodded, shaky.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
Then he tried to smile.
It looked painful.
"Good," I said, steady. "Now go win her a stuffed animal like a normal romantic idiot."
Marshall let out a small laugh—thin, but real.
"Okay," he said again, and walked off toward a game booth like his life depended on a plush penguin.
I exhaled.
Bryce returned with Lily a minute later, both of them composed like nothing happened.
Bryce's eyes met mine for half a second.
Mission accomplished.
For now.
Because in Atlantic City, temptation doesn't disappear.
It just waits for you to blink.
And Marshall Eriksen was a man who hadn't slept properly in weeks.
Which meant the weekend wasn't over.
Not even close.