God, he feels so stupid.
Nick's sitting on the edge of his bed in his little shoebox of a room, his beat up cellphone in one hand and an embellished bundle of glorified popsicle sticks in the other. He runs his thumb over the red plastic feather glued to the end. This is dumb. He's a grown-ass man. He doesn't need some glitter-covered twig to make him brave.
"Whoever's holding the Feelings Stick has permission to say whatever he or she is feeling without being judged." Jess' voice echoes in his head.
Nick groans and flops back onto the mattress. They're called feelings for a reason. If people were supposed to talk about them, they would be called talkings. You're supposed to keep everything all tangled up in your chest until you can figure it out by yourself. And if any of pesky feelings try to escape from your mouth, you're supposed to shove everything down and ignore it until it goes away. That's what adults do.
But maybe Jess has a point. Bottling things up has only made things worse for him. As much as he hates to admit it, the times when he has opened up to her about the complicated mess that's become his life were actually good. It was like a hundred pound weight was lifted off his chest and he could actually breathe again. There's something about talking to her that put things in perspective and made everything seem a little less hopeless, like he might actually be able to turn things around. And when she says she believes in him, he gets the feeling she actually means it. He's gotten used to being cynical about human nature working as a corporate lawyer that it's refreshing to stumble upon something honest.
"So, Nick," the mini-Jess on his shoulder asks him. "How do you feel?"
He takes a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. He talks so damn much every single day at work, why is this so hard? Nick screws up his face in concentration, his fingers gripped tight around the travel-sized feelings stick.
He's mad that Caroline won't call him back and that he hasn't been able to see his daughter in over a month. He's angry at her because he feels like she's being immature about this whole situation. He's pissed off about that stunt she pulled three weeks ago when she came to his office to drop off his stuff and told him she wanted a break, as if he was just some troublesome ex-boyfriend and hasn't been her husband for the past eleven years.
But underneath all that anger, he's just sad. He misses seeing them. He feels like a part of his chest has been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole where his heart is supposed to be. It's so overwhelming that sometimes he feel like he can't breathe. He's such a damn mess. He feels like he's about to cry all the time now. It's pathetic, just the other day he almost broke down in the middle of a furniture store. Whenever he sees something that reminds him of Caroline or Abbi and he'll find himself clenching his jaw and fighting back tears.
It's tearing him apart. He feels so guilty, so ashamed that he let them down. It's like a deep pit in the bottom of his stomach, twisting and turning his stomach into knots. When he tries to fall asleep it's all he can think about, all those worries about how he's not good enough crawling out of the dark corner he tries to shove them into. He replays all the mistakes he's made over the years, every misstep that led him down this road. Every flaw and shortcoming that makes him a horrible husband and father.
Maybe Caroline's right. Maybe they need a break. Time to take a breath and figure out who they are and where they're going. He can fix himself, buff out all the dents until he's the man that Caroline fell in love with and the father Abbi looks up to.
He's worried about Abbi. He's worried about how this is making her feel, about how this will affect the way she grows up. Whatever is happening with him and Caroline is a different issue. Abbi still needs him. She still needs both of them to be her parents.
Nick takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts. Then he tightens his grip on the feelings stick and dials the number he knows by heart. It goes to voicemail, the sound of his wife's cheery recording ringing in his ears.
"It's Nick again. I love you. I'm sorry. I can't remember how many times I've said that at this point, but I'm gonna keep saying it until you believe me."
"Anyway, I'm calling you because we-" he pauses and glances down at the feelings stick. "I feel like it's important for us to talk. I know space is what you need right now, and I feel like it's important to honor that. I know I've been letting Abbi down but I don't feel like being completely cut out of her life is right for her either. I want the same things you do; I want to do what's best for Abbi. Whatever problems we have, we can't let them get in the way of being her parents. Maybe you need time away from me as your husband, but I still want to talk to you face-to-face about Abbi, about what's best for her, even if we have to spend some time apart."
"Can we call a truce? Tomorrow I'm going to be at the little coffee shop you like on South Central from open to close. Please come talk to me. I love you. I'm sorry. I hope you make it. Goodbye, Caroline."
Nick doesn't expect her to show up. He desperately wants her to, hopes with every fiber of his being that she'll realize how important it is to not give up on them. But over the years he's learned the importance of reasonable expectations. He's been told that he only sees the worst in people, but that's only because people are the worst. If you expect anything else, you'll always end up disappointed.
He calls in sick to work under the condition that he'll get twice as much done at home than at the office. There will be a cloud of unspoken disapproval among the other partners about him not coming in, about him being anything less than 115% committed to his job, but he can take it. He's built up a strong enough reputation and enough credibility that they'll let it slide just this once. Teresa insists it's fine for him to take the day off, especially since he hasn't taken a vacation day in years, and promises to cover for him and forward all his important messages to his cell.
The coffee shop opens at 7 a.m. Nick gets there early and anxiously waits inside his car until they flip the sign in the front window to read "We're open! Come on in!" Nick is the first person in the store, and he buys a muffin and a coffee from the bleary-eyed barista before setting up shop at a table in the back corner where he can have a little privacy but can still see everyone that comes in the front entrance.
He spends the first two hours on pins and needles, his heart racing and knee bouncing underneath the table. He can't help perking up every time the door opens, hoping to see Caroline walk in. But he quickly gives up once the morning rush starts to hit, just glancing up every few minutes to make sure he doesn't miss her. Time crawls by, and Nick slowly makes his way through the massive pile of paperwork and reading he still has to get done on his 'off' day.
He's marking notes in the margin of a document when he hears the barista call out, "I have a latte for Caroline at the bar."
Nick's head snaps up. He watches dumbstruck as Caroline drops a handful of change in the tip jar and takes her drink. She walks over to where he's sitting. He can't help but notice the way her hands are trembling nervously.
"Hi," she says softly.
He looks at her in disbelief. "Hi."
"Can I?" She gestures to the seat across from him and he nods quickly.
"Yeah. Of course." He sticks his pen in the crease of the document before closing it and shoving it into his briefcase.
Caroline sits down carefully, setting her drink down on the table. He glances down at her hands. His heart leaps when he sees that she's still wearing her wedding ring. Maybe she hasn't given up on them entirely. Maybe they can still make this work.
There's a heavy tension in the air, and Nick struggles to find the right words to say. He's been practicing for weeks, running every option through his head. But now that he's here in the moment he can't help but feel like they're all inadequate.
"So, um-" Caroline clears her throat nervously. "How have you been?"
Part of him wants to laugh. It's such a mundane question. The kind of thing you ask a not-quite-stranger when you're trying to be polite. His knee-jerk reaction is to lie, to say he's fine. He's so used to putting up a front, creating this perfect outside image of himself and refusing to let anyone in. But he thinks about Jess, and how she's chipped away a part of that shell and wormed her way into his life, and how much better things have been ever since he opened up. Caroline actually showed up today and he has the bundle of popsicle sticks in his back pocket to thank for it.
"Not great," he admits, and isn't that the fucking understatement of the year. But he's not here to talk about himself. "How's Abbi?" he asks, his voice wavering as he tries not to start crying in the middle of a fucking coffee shop.
"She's doing okay. She misses you."
Nick looks down into his coffee, willing himself to pull himself together. He can't fall apart in front of her. He can't. He knew things weren't great based on all the secondhand information he's gleaned from Jess' stories about his daughter, but it's still hard to hear Caroline confirm that all of it is true. That his worst nightmare has become a reality. That he's a terrible father.
"Caroline, I-" he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and remember the speech he rehearsed in front of the bathroom mirror nearly fifty times. "I want to respect your need for space. But I need you to respect my needs too. What we have right now isn't working. I need to be able to see my daughter. Tell me what you want from me. Don't shut me out like this."
She nods, her fingernails picking at the edge of her coffee sleeve. "I think we need to take a break. I realized that I'm not happy, and I haven't been happy for a while."
It was a punch to the chest the first time he heard her say it, and the blow isn't any softer this time around. If this has been going on for a while, why is he only hearing this from her now? She's his wife, she's supposed to tell him these things. He's supposed to know when things are going wrong so he can fix them. How could he have missed this? Was he so buried in his work that he couldn't see what was in front of him? Or has she been trying to act like things are fine, in the hopes that if she pretends long enough that they will be? No matter how he tries to justify it now he can't.
"I want to be there for you." Nick reaches towards where her hand is resting on the table, but she reflexively pulls it back. It makes him sick to his stomach, the way she won't even let him touch her now. He pulls his hand back to rest in his lap. "I want to try to fix this."
"Maybe you can't, Nick."
"What do you mean I can't? You won't even let me try?" He has to remind himself to stay calm. The last thing he wants is another screaming match between them. "Please, just talk to me. We'll make sense of it together."
Caroline sighs, staring down at the table to avoid meeting his gaze, like she can't even bear to look him in the eye. "I feel like I can't tell you things."
"I'm your husband," Nick says in disbelief. She can tell him anything, no matter what. That's what he's here for. He took a vow to stand by her side, to listen to her and care for her. How can she not understand that?
"That's why I can't. I don't want you to realize that I'm not perfect."
"I don't expect you to be perfect," he says softly. "You don't have to be. I love you."
"I know that. I know. But-" she pauses, as if she's struggling to find the right words. "I keep wondering if you actually mean it, or if you're just saying it because you have to."
That hurts. He knows heartbreak is supposed to be a metaphor, but the pain he's feeling is too sharp to be anything but real. It feels like he's holding the shards of his heart in his chest as the life he's worked so hard to build crumbles before his very eyes. "Caroline, honey, of course I do."
"The only reason we got married in the first place was because I was pregnant," she says seriously. "Without Abbi we never would have stayed together this long."
That's not true," he insists. "I still would have married you. I love you. I love you."
Caroline just shakes her head slightly, looking unconvinced. Nick can still hear her words from three weeks ago ringing in his ears, "I don't know if I love you anymore." He knows that she must still love him. They've been together for too long and been through too much together for it all to mean nothing to her. He just has to win her over, like he did back in college when Caroline was the hot girl down the hall he had a crush on. He's still that guy she fell in love with, he just has to prove it her.
"Abbi really wants to see you," she says, trying to change the topic. "If you have the time."
"I'll make time," Nick says, determined.
"You could call and talk to her during the week, as long as it's before her bedtime. And on the weekends you could pick her up and spend time with her, as long as you aren't in the office or doing work. Does that work for you?"
The ball is still clearly in Caroline's court, and Nick can't help but feel like it's unfair how little control he has over the situation. It's nothing close to what he wants. He wants to be back at home with his wife and daughter. But it's something. He hasn't seen Abbi in over a month. He'd do anything just to hear her voice for five minutes.
Nick takes a deep breath. "That's great."
"Actually," Caroline reaches into her purse and pulls up something on her phone. "I know this is last minute, but Abbi's school has the day off this coming Wednesday and I had already scheduled to work that day-"
"You got a job?"
She looks up from her phone, looking a little embarrassed. "It's no big deal. I'm just a part-time waitress. I pick up a few hours here and there whenever Abbi's in school. The owner's daughter is a grade older than Abbi, so they like to have playdates together."
He's pleasantly surprised. Their fights never end in compromise, but here's Caroline, actually trying to meet him in the middle. With two incomes they could have enough financial wiggle room that he could actually cut down on a lot of his overtime hours. This is progress. The door is still open. Now he just has to convince Caroline to give him another shot and she can fall in love with him all over again.
"I'll take Wednesday off from work. You can drop Abbi off before your shift, if that's alright with you," Nick suggests and Caroline nods absentmindedly as she taps out something on her phone.
"Sure. Just text me the address and I'll let you know the exact time on Tuesday," Caroline shuts off her phone and takes another sip of her latte as she checks the time. "Well, I need to get going."
"Oh. I'll walk you out," Nick says, shoving things into his briefcase.
"You don't have to do that," Caroline replies with a dismissive wave of her hand, but Nick's already packed and ready to leave.
He follows her out the door to where she parked, which is only a few feet from the entrance of the shop. Nick tightens his grip on the handle of his briefcase and shoves his free hand into his pocket. He awkwardly hovers at her side as she unlocks her car.
"Well," Caroline says once the door's opened. "I'll see you on Wednesday then."
"Alright." Nick nods. "Tell Abbi I can't wait to see her."
"I will," she says seriously.
"Take care. I love you."
She doesn't say it back to him, just smiles tightly, and Nick can't help but notice the gleam of pity in her eyes.
Nick ends up going to the law office that afternoon anyway. Admittedly, he's more productive when he's actually there and he has a stack of paperwork that needs to be filed by the end of the day. Teresa stops to ask him if he's actually alright, but he waves off her concerns and claims it was just a stomach bug. She gives him a shrewd look before passing over his messages from the morning, which he gratefully accepts. He buckles down and quickly catches up on everything he missed, checking off item after item on his to-do list.
During his lunch break he sends a vacation day request to Linda in HR and then spends the rest of the half hour planning the best father-daughter day ever.