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You have no clue how I feel so shut up.
Molly finished reading the text and then tossed the phone to the side. She had tried, nine hundred different times and nine thousand different ways to assure Tom that she cared about him. Loved him. Still wanted to marry him. But she supposed the wedding had been the last straw for them.
She just hadn’t expected him to be so cruel about everything.
She picked up the glass of wine she had poured to relax after a long day, now needed to soothe the tumultuous thoughts and feelings coursing through her. So this was the end. She glanced at the ring on her hand and knew at some point before tomorrow she would take it off and send it back to Tom. It was a family heirloom, and while she was sure legally she could keep it, it just didn’t seem right. She didn’t love him, and while it was a nice ring it would feel strange to keep something important to a man she…
Well, she loved him. He supposedly didn’t love her, it seemed.
She had some of her wine and then reached for her mobile, calling up Mary. Her friend answered on the third ring. “So, it’s over?” Mary asked without preamble.
Molly smiled slightly. “Oh, I’m that obvious, am I?”
“Well, it’s eleven at night. I imagined it was either Tom ending things or Sherlock starting things if you called this late.” There was a pause. “And Sherlock is currently passed out on my sofa, so...”
“Why is he there?” Molly asked.
“Needed to pick John’s brain, but the poor guy hadn’t been to sleep in days. He’s a bit of a mess so I forced him to sleep. I doubt he’ll stay asleep long. He may head home before daybreak.”
Or he’ll pop around my place, let himself in and climb into bed in the guest bedroom, as usual, Molly thought. She looked at the ring on her hand again, seeing it gleam in the dim light of her sitting room. “I don’t doubt it.” She sighed. “Should I give him the ring back in person or just mail it? Or drop it off at his flat when I know he won’t be there?”
“Mail it. If he has to sign for it, then you’ll know he got it and if he won’t you’ll get it back and can try to give it to him another way.” There was another pause. “Are you going to be okay, love?”
“Yes, I think so. It’s not like this time he turned into a sociopath or something. He’s just...he said he loved me, and he didn’t mean it. Typical heartbreak. I’ll get over it.”
“I know, but it still hurts. If you want to have a girls day out tomorrow, I’m game.”
“That would be lovely.” She stopped for a moment, then set her phone down and tugged the engagement ring off her finger before picking up her mobile again. “There. The ring is off, and I’ll get a ring box and send it back in the post in the morning. If he takes it, great, and if he doesn’t...”
“Nice little bauble for your jewelry box.”
“I suppose. I just don’t really feel right keeping it, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” There was a soft chuckle on Mary’s end, and then some muffled conversation and then Molly could clearly hear Sherlock’s familiar irritated growl. “Sleeping Beauty woke up.”
That caused Molly to smile. “Did he get any rest at all?”
“A few hours, which is something, I suppose. Better than none.”
“Yeah.” Molly settled more into her sofa cushions. “Take care of him. We can meet up tomorrow for brunch, ya?”
“Definitely. See you tomorrow, love. Tenish, my place.”
“Tenish it is.” Molly hung up and then had some more wine, idly checking to see if there were any more messages from Tom. None, as she had expected, or rather as she had hoped. She didn’t want to continue the fight, not now. It was over, it was best if they admitted it. They hadn’t gotten to the point of storing things at each other's flats, which should have been a sign, really, but that meant it would be easier.
Easier. That was what she needed right now.
She finished off the glass and set it down with the ring next to it, then thought better of it and pocketed it. If Sherlock showed up he could do something to it. For the night it would stay in her jewelry box. In the meantime it would stay in her pocket as she got the guest room ready, knowing it probably wouldn’t be long until Sherlock arrived to pick her brain for a time. Get the room ready, set up the coffee, wait. That was to be her evening, apparently.
She did all of that and then went to her bedroom, lifting up the lid of the box and carefully setting the ring inside. He had said he loved her. Maybe he had, but she no longer loved him. It hurt to admit, but she could, now that she knew it was over. And so she set the ring away and went to wait for the man she knew she loved, the man Tom had known she had never stopped loving.
Sherlock Holmes was coming over soon.