The break-up actually went far more smoothly than she expected.
Ted half-heartedly pleaded for a second chance for a few moments, but the defeat was already apparent on his face. He had known before she did.
He still looked more dejected than she would have felt possible.
"I wanted this to work," Robin told him. "I wanted it to be like it was when we were younger, to just have those feelings and have all of the other complications not matter anymore. But it just isn't possible."
"I know," Ted told her. "I wanted that, too. I just kept telling myself that if I just kept on trying, one more day, one more weekend with the kids, eventually I'd look at you and I'd feel it again – "
Robin knew that he wasn't referring to his feelings for her.
"I can't compete with your wife," she told Ted. "Even if I wanted to share this suburban, parenting- teenagers, going-to-school-functions life with you, I wouldn't be able to do it the way she could. I can't live up to her."
"That isn't what this is about," Ted insisted. "I'm not asking you to do that."
"You're still in love with her," Robin maintained. "I'm not angry at you for it, Ted. I wish I knew what it was like to love someone the way that you loved her and make it all feel easy."
"It wasn't easy," Ted said with a grimace. "I spent half of our marriage just hoping there was some way she'd beat the odds, that I'd be able to keep her here. And then she died anyway. You think that was easy?"
"I know it wasn't," Robin said, feeling like she had gotten all of this horribly wrong. Again.
"Look, when she first died, it was like this constant, searing, pain in my chest," Ted continued, seemingly oblivious to her. "Eventually it dampened down to this constant, dull ache. And I was glad for that, you know? As long as that existed, I knew that she was still with me. But eventually enough time passed that it got fainter and fainter, and one day I realized that it didn't hurt anymore. That I had gone an entire week, two weeks, three weeks without feeling any of that. And I thought about you, Robin, you, the only other relationship of my life that felt unfinished, and I thought that maybe it could work again. I started to feel hopeful about it. That made me feel even worse."
Robin remained dumbstruck as he continued to ramble on.
"So, I sit the kids down and tell them the entire story of our relationship, from me meeting you at McLaren's to your wedding with Barney and finally meeting their mother at the train station. I guess I wanted to prove to them that I still loved their mother, that getting to this point where it didn't hurt anymore didn't mean that I was betraying her. They just – "
Ted sighed wearily. "They said I was in love with you and I should just ask you out. I kept thinking, maybe the reason I'm thinking of all of this means something, maybe it will be the key to not feeling guilty for not feeling awful about losing my wife anymore. I just couldn't make myself feel it."
Robin felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, like she was the focal point of some ridiculous farce, that she was an idiot for forcing an outcome that had been predestined all along. She had no idea what to say next. How could she react to the claim that the reason for their entire relationship had been because Ted felt guilty over losing his grief? How did you even respond to something like that?
"I should have told you all of this months ago," Ted continued. "I let it go on too far. I let it affect my children in a bad way. I never should have done that. It was just – "he let out a deep huff of breath. "I squandered my time with Tracy. I don't know why we waited seven years to get married. I thought if I just sped things up with you that I could outrun fate this time. That I could skip all the other stuff and get that happy ending again. Or at least something that looked like it." He shook his head. "I was wrong."
Robin remained silent for a few moments, allowing his words to sink in.
"I was wrong, too," she told him when the air around them had thickened a little less for him to be able to hear her. "Look, Ted – I've had the same temptation as you. Even before you met Tracy, when I was getting ready to get married to Barney and I felt anxious about it not being quite what I wanted, I would always go back to thinking about our relationship, all those what ifs."
"It wasn't a new thing for me, either" Ted admitted. "When you were with him and I was alone – "he sighed. "It was always this perfect dream in my head, imagining that all of the other stuff went away."
"I had the same feeling when you were with Tracy, those first few awful years after the divorce," Robin said. "You had that perfect dream for yourself, Ted, with the person who was actually right for you, and I was so jealous. I think it was only when we were weak, when we were at our worst moments, that we looked back at our relationship and saw it for what it wasn't. But it didn't change anything about us. It didn't mean we should have gotten back together."
Ted sighed. "You're right," he told her. "I know you're right."
"I think you may be ready to move on," Robin said gently. "I don't think you need to feel guilty for not grieving her so badly, Ted. Tracy would want you to move on, to be happy again. You just need someone who's actually stepmother material."
"She told me this herself, you know," Ted said, smiling shyly. "I wasn't ready to hear it."
"Well, I've always been more forceful than she was," Robin told him, feeling some of the old self-confidence start to make its way back to her voice. It had been so long since she felt any of that. At least in this area of her life. "And as your friend, I think it will be good for you."
"Friends, huh?" Ted replied.
Robin reached out for his hand. "Always."
